


Who Says the Nights are For Sleeping

by lucitae



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2018-12-20 19:45:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 18
Words: 55,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11927943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucitae/pseuds/lucitae
Summary: Seongwoo desires nothing, until he meets Hwang Minhyun.





	1. The Sweetest Joy, The Wildest Woe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [landfill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/landfill/gifts).



> Dedicated to my dearest kouhai,  
> For the love you've given me, all my words are yours.
> 
> An XXXHolic-esque AU. Pairings and characters to be updated as I go.

“There’s this  _person_ ,” the client begins, uncertain, speaking more with hand gestures than words, “I favor.”

“I’m here to help, not to judge,” Minhyun interjects gently and adds a smile. It works to a certain extent. The man, Taehyun, seems to relax a bit after a breath.

“There’s this boy I favor. I favor him a lot so I dote on him in this way but—”

Minhyun gives him space, time. Realization is one thing but acknowledgement puts things in perspective. And Minhyun can be a patient man.

“This... at some point...” he tries again.

“A bit... well...” and again, to no avail. Minhyun reads the lip licking as a nervous tick as well as the tongue held between teeth. The next part is barely audible: “It's the minority.”

“It can happen," Minhyun supplies.

“But this,” he trails off in mid thought, still struggling. Minhyun takes a sip of tea and urges his client to do the same. He doesn’t.

The divulgence comes in fits and spurts.

“Because there’s quite a large age gap.”

Minhyun hopes he reads as understanding. There’s a small smile on Taehyun’s lips — fond; a laugh follows — mocking himself.

“Daehwi is 17 and I'm 25... so...” There’s a slump in the shoulders of defeat. The cruelty of reality probably brought him to this place. Minhyun folds his hands in front of him.

“What would you like me to do?”

The client turns frantic, waving his hands before his face, quick “nothing”s filling the empty space. Minhyun raises a brow. No one enters this building wanting _nothing_. So he waits until the man is calm enough to process the question again.

Another self aware chuckle as Taehyun lowers his head. “I want to stop feeling this way.”

Minhyun mulls over the options, taking his time before offering. “There’s a way,” he admits, drawing out the words so that his client can understand the gravity of it, “but it involves the removal of the ‘heart’.” He points at Taehyun’s chest. “Once it is removed, you can never feel the same emotions again towards that individual.”

The man looks down at his lap and just smiles softly, with affection. “These feelings of mine would just be a burden to him.” Minhyun reads determination in those eyes when Taehyun looks up again. “Please remove my heart for me.”

Minhyun smiles and gives Taehyun a nod. “However, there’s a price attached to each wish granted. For yours, I require that.” Minhyun points at Taehyun’s chest, covered by a blazer, concealing an inner pocket holding a small amulet.

Something wells up in his client as he reaches for it slowly, clutching it in his fist before unfurling it slowly. _Treasured_ , Minhyun thinks unblinkingly. The stronger the spell, the higher the price ; the more precious an object becomes, the more valuable it becomes. Minhyun holds out his palm and Taehyun gently places the amulet on it.

Minhyun closes his palm. When he presses his palm against Taehyun’s head to cast the spell, the amulet had vanished.

 

 

☾ 

 

 

The portraits flicker to life: original painting replaced by a familiar face framed by a rectangular shimmer. Only two of the four reveal a different image.

“Anything interesting today?” the one on the far left greets with an impish grin on his face.

“Good to see you too, Minki,” Minhyun acknowledges with a smile before relaying the events that had just transpired.

“So did you do it?” the other one asks after being silent all this time, knowing. Minhyun meets Dongho’s eyes and shakes his head.

“I merely suppressed the emotions. Removal would require a higher price. Memories, perhaps.” There’s more to it. The two seem to know.

This time when Dongho speaks up, he saves Minhyun from explaining.

“Something similar happened to me today,” he doesn’t look away from Minhyun, “a boy arrived at my door step asking to be cursed.”

Minki whistles under his breath.

“Overwhelming guilt apparently,” Dongho says with a shrug. Careful as he watches Minhyun from the corner of his eye. “That many have loved him and yet he can’t find it in him to love them in return — not in the way they want him to. He wanted to never be loved again, so no one would befall the same fate.”

Minhyun swallows. Minki speaks up for him this time: “Did you grant him that wish?”

Dongho’s smile turns wry. “We all know that for that kind of curse, more misfortune would follow its path.”

“So no,” Minki concludes.

“No,” Dongho affirms, echoing Minki. “I gave him courage to stand his ground.”

Minhyun gives Dongho a small smile.

Minki claps his hands and sighs, looking longingly in the direction of the two motionless frames. “Next time, I hope Master Kim and Master Kwak decide to show up.”

“They have a life and probably clients at the moment, _Master Choi_ ,” Dongho mimics and Minhyun nearly laughs, reminded of the old days.

Minki huffs. “Then till next time Master Hwang and Master Kang,” he adds with an extra dramatic bow. Minhyun gives them both a slight wave before the original placer images return as if old comrades had never been depicted in the first place. He stares at the motionless portraits for a moment or two before he leaves, gently sliding the door to close it. The borders of the door shimmer before fading entirely.

“Finished?” the boy asks, tilting his head to get a glimpse at the room. Minhyun nods, unbudging as he obscures the vanishing door from view.

“Are they well?”

“I suppose so.” Minhyun chuckles when he watches the boy give up, shoulders deflating in defeat.

It’s the _I wish I could meet them_ muttered under the breath that has Minhyun reaching over to give Seonho a comforting pat of the head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is taken from [this](https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/301014-the-sweetest-joy-the-wildest-woe-is-love) quote.
> 
> I love taehwi. The entire dialogue Taehyun delivers comes from [this](https://twitter.com/kangd_niel/status/900747748110192642).


	2. We Spin Our Own Yarn

_… low hanging lanterns accentuating the wooden finish of the walls, matching the long table at the very end of the store. There’s an old cash register — the ones that look like ancient typewriters — sitting at the very end of it, illuminated by a single lamp throwing off an orange-ish glow. So many glass cabinets. Some spanning the length of the floor to the ceiling, others are only knee high but all crammed with antiques it’s impossible not to ogle. Spacious, I guess, but with that many objects it’s hard to tell…_

Or so Seongwoo had overheard one of his female classmates ramble about before the professor rushed in ten minutes late. The shop wasn’t an easy find, inconspicuous, looking exactly like its neighbors. But the address she had jotted down had pointed to this door. Heavy, wooden, with iron bolts that barely hint at it’s age. Seongwoo barely takes note of it as he shoves open the door and takes a glimpse inside.

The shop the girl had mentioned so ecstatically to her friends was nowhere to be found. It was a spacious courtyard. Lawn finely trimmed before it led to the hanok-like abode, seemingly recently re-furnished with wood that could last another five decades. There was a simple outdoor bench in the yard. The rest unremarkable. It resembled any other home on this street, Seonwoo assumed. And yet the address matched the number outside no matter how many times he checked.

“Is this the shop that grants wishes?” Seongwoo decides to call out as he explores the courtyard. Even if it isn’t, perhaps the residents of this place could direct him to the correct location.

“And if it is?” comes a voice from behind a pillar. Seongwoo assumes it had obscured a room from view and steps closer. The owner of the voice steps out from the shadows. Tall, taller than Seongwoo perhaps, and with a face that could almost be considered on par with his own, choice of clothing odd, with what seems like women’s robes draped over his shoulders.

It takes a moment before Seongwoo can speak up again and when he does all he says is:

“No one informed me the shop keeper was attractive.” Almost regretting speaking up. But there’s a look of amusement on the shop keeper’s face, a smile he’s trying to fight. So maybe, Seongwoo considers, maybe it was worth it.

“No one ever remembers the shop keeper,” the man says, smile turning polite but the amusement still lingers in his eyes.

“I suppose,” Seongwoo replies, struggling to recall the conversation he overheard. “But I thought it was a shop? Something that resembles an antique shop at least?”

The expression in the man’s face tightens. Then careful as he asks the next question: “what do you see?”

“A courtyard,” Seongwoo spreads his arm, “and living quarters.” He adds with flourish and he gestures at where the man stands.

The frown deepens as the man steps down, feet quiet as he lands on the grass. Seongwoo was right, the shop keeper was taller than him. Not by much but still enough to make a difference.

“Seonho,” the man calls and a boy in his teens rushes out. Tall, lanky like he’s just experiencing his growth spurt but with a childish face that gives away his age. The man leans to whisper something into the boy’s ear. Seonho circles Seongwoo, keeping an eye on the ground before shaking his head twice.

The bottom juts out just a little bit more, brows furrowing as the man gives Seongwoo a once over. “Who are you?”

“My name is Ong Seongwoo. Not  _Hong_ , not  _Gong_ , not  _Ung_. But  _Ong_  Seongwoo,” Seongwoo finds himself saying almost indignantly, giving the man the usual introduction before throwing the same question back at him: “So who are  _you_?”

There’s a hint of a smile on the man’s lips. Seongwoo half expects some sort of riddle, circular replies that answers no questions. Instead he gets a “Minhyun. Hwang Minhyun. And like you have mentioned, the keeper of the shop that grants wishes, which obligates me to ask this: what wish do you want granted?”

Seongwoo shrugs. “Nothing. I don’t have one.”

Minhyun’s eyes bore into Seongwoo and even the boy Seonho turns to stare at Seongwoo.

“That’s not possible,” Minhyun says. Tone careful once more, evaluating Seongwoo. “Everyone has a desire. You might not have realized it yet.”

 _And yours?_ Seongwoo almost asks in return when the door behind him opens slowly.

Long hair that seems to spill out from behind the door as the girl peeks into the courtyard they are in. She almost closes it as soon as she spots the figures inside but Seonho rushes to keep the door open with a cheerful “come in, come in.”

“Maybe next time,” the client mutters under her breath as she shrinks into herself.

And then she flees.

Seongwoo turns to look at Minhyun, expectant.

A satchet falls from Minhyun’s palm, dangling by its strings around the middle finger. Minhyun tosses it to Seongwoo and says, “go after her.”

“What?”

“Place it under her bed. Hurry,” Minhyun urges without explanation. Seongwoo’s pretty sure something possessed him. Either that or Minhyun’s palm against his back was enough to prompt him into obedience.

Seongwoo chases a receding figure out the door.

 

 

 ☾

 

 

“What was that about?” Seongwoo demands, breathless. His palms resting against his knees as he breathes with exertion.

Minhyun blinks. Strange, no one ever seems to return after their initial visit. Fleeting encounters, tangential fate, and yet there’s this individual before him defying all past assumptions and silent laws. Minhyun has to fight his smile for the second time that day.

“Follow me,” is all he says in reply to Seongwoo. The smile fades as he recalls the girl from earlier. She was wearing a uniform of some high school from around here with eyes too afraid to meet anyone in the eye. The moment she did, she fled. But the most troublesome thing about the brief exchange was how she was entangled in strings. Some were thin, fibrous — newly made ; some were as thick as locks — the weight of them burdening her.

Minhyun walks to the front gate, placing both hands against the door, whispering his request. The wooden doors are replaced by paper ones, painted in vibrant colors. They open. Small volumes of smoke seep out. Minhyun turns to face Seongwoo and repeats, both a request and a challenge: “Follow me.”

 

 

 ☾

 

 

Seongwoo coughs as he steps through the door brought forth from nothingness, the smoke an irritant to the lungs as well as to vision as he tries to make something out of the darkness. A tunnel, he assumes, or a pathway not unlike the one to and from Hades depicted in myths as he looks towards the light at the end of the road. Questions still bubble to the tip of his tongue but he tries his best to swallow them down. He doubts Minhyun will answer any of them now with the whole  _show don’t tell_  aura coming off of him. So Seongwoo trudges behind Minhyun silently.

When they reach the end, it opens out to a cliff with a gaping abyss below. Floating islands too far away for a safe jump. It isn’t fear that prompts Seongwoo to grip the edges of Minhyun’s sleeve to steady himself or so he tells himself.

“Where are we?” Seongwoo inquires, absorbing the scene before him. The drifting islands, he amends, looks more like large masses of rock: one side jagged and lethal, the other flat with some colorful aura. Aimless in their course and yet they never seem to encounter each other.

“The realm between those who are asleep and those who are awake” is Seongwoo’s answer. His attention snaps back to Minhyun who had taken the first step off the edge of the cliff.

He doesn’t fall to his demise like Seongwoo had expected. Instead it was as if the ground had solidified under Minhyun’s feet, except invisible to the eye.

“Follow me closely,” is all Minhyun says. Seongwoo is grateful for small mercies. Minhyun doesn’t make a sound even if Seongwoo’s grip is a bit too tight for comfort.

 

 

 ☾

 

 

There’s a girl at the center of attention: hair pulled back into a ponytail, curled, blazer forgotten as she laughs and everyone laughs with her. Seongwoo wouldn’t have recognized her if not for the sachet dangling beneath her desk. He looks to Minhyun for answers.

Minhyun’s expression is unreadable as he surveys the scene before him. Seongwoo notices before Minhyun has a chance to point it out.

“Are those roots?” Seongwoo asks, pointing at the fringes of this girl’s dream, where colors begin to merge with darkness. The roots are no longer spidery like a new plant but rather thickening, verge of an inflexible decades old tree.

“Yes,” Minhyun replies, staring straight ahead at the scene of the girl and her classmates. “The stronger the desire to stay in a dream, the more rooted she becomes in this realm. A few more days she might not be able to leave. She’ll be consumed whole a few more days after that.”

Minhyun takes a step forward. Where his foot lands, the color seeps out, revealing the barren ground beneath.

“Wait—”  Seongwoo tries to stop him but a stern _Just Watch._ that sounds like Seonho stops him in his tracks.

The sweet dreams starts transforming into a nightmare-scape the more steps Minhyun takes. As if he was a harbinger of misfortune. Face still unreadable but determination is in every step. The classmates turn, freeze, flee. The girl begs them to come back, to not leave. Ponytail undone, hair falling slowly, the desk dissolves into thin air.

“You can’t stay here,” Minhyun says, looking down at the girl who has been reduced to her tears and on her knees. Despite the cold words, his voice is still somehow gentle in deliverance.

“Why?” the girl demands, glaring at Minhyun. The shyness of earlier today nowhere to be found. “It’s better than out there,” she points, “where I can’t do anything at all.”

Minhyun takes another step and the girl screams in anguish. The roots pulse once before elongating into thin ropes, stretching until they become of a fibrous quality, encircling the girl till she’s strung up like she’s been caught in a spider web.

None of this really makes sense to Seongwoo but he supposes that _sense_ has no meaning in a realm inbetween sleeping and awake.

Minhyun touches one of the fibers. “Words,” he says, softly, “have power over us. You can get bound by them, tripped up, restricted.” He runs a hand across the strings and a faint melody can be heard. “Wouldn’t you rather have the dream become a reality?”

The girl sobs, shaking her head. “That’s impossible.”

Minhyun’s fingers catch her chin, bringing him into her line of sight. “But if it could be done, wouldn’t you rather have the dream become a reality?”

The girl nods, dropping her head in defeat as Minhyun steps back.

“Then tell me… what do you wish me to do?”

The girl lifts her head, holding Minhyun’s gaze. “Free me.”

A smile, warm, appears on Minhyun’s face. “In return, I want that,” he says, pointing at the hair tie worn on the girl’s wrist. She nods in agreement. The moment Minhyun touches the hair tie all the strings fall away and the girl collapses to the ground. He kneels and presses two fingers against her forehead. When he walks away, color returns, restoring the dreamscape to a normal scene of her daily life. She’s in her desk, head lowered as she scribbles into her work book, observing her classmates from the corner of her eye. One of them runs up to her, ponytail bouncing as she clutches the client in a headlock, laughing. Seongwoo can’t hear much of the conversation or chatter or perhaps it is in fast forward. The classmate pulls the girl’s hair back into a ponytail and ties it for her and comments afterwards in what Seongwoo assumes is a compliment. The girl ducks her head as her cheeks are dusted in pink.

It is only when Minhyun is standing beside him does he hear the sentence the classmate uttered to the girl.

 _You can’t do anything by yourself._ Followed by a playful laugh. _What would you do without me?_

Seongwoo turns to Minhyun and takes note of the stiffness and the sorrow in his shoulder, in the way he holds himself. “The path to making a dream a reality is much harder than staying in a dream for all of eternity. Sometimes I wonder if this is the right thing to do.” A confession. Minhyun turns to Seongwoo and smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “But it’s the only thing I’ve been trained to do.”

For a second Seongwoo considers placing a hand on Minhyun’s arm in comfort, but Minhyun turns to him and says, “let’s go back.” Seongwoo can only nod in return.

 

 

☾ 

 

 

“Welcome back!” Seonho greets enthusiastically until he sees Seongwoo enter the abode behind Minhyun. The expression that crosses Seonho’s face demands an answer to _Why is_ he _still here?_

“Thank you,” Minhyun replies. Seonho glares at Seongwoo as if its his fault that Minhyun has had his emotions and energy drained out of him.

“What about him?” Seonho asks as he continues to stare down Seongwoo and Minhyun turns around as if he’s forgotten Seongwoo’s existence.

“Your desire…” Minhyun starts as an afterthought.

Seongwoo gives him a shrug. “Can’t I keep coming back until I realize it?”

Seonho’s eyes narrow but Seongwoo ignores him, keeping his eyes on Minhyun the entire time.

“Do as you wish,” Minhyun allows. “I hope you find what you are looking for.”

Seongwoo flashes Minhyun a grateful smile, feeling like he’s closer to finding it than he ever has been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is taken from [this](https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/268210-when-it-comes-to-life-we-spin-our-own-yarn) quote.
> 
> Come discuss with me on twitter @dulcetfairytale


	3. More Alive Than The Living

Seongwoo starts frequenting the shop to Seonho’s ire.

“It’s not going to make a difference you know?” Seonho says the first time Seongwoo returns. Minhyun is nowhere to be found. “Just because you come here doesn’t mean you’ll magically realize your desire.” He lectures while he sweeps the yard, purposefully sweeping dust into Seongwoo’s vicinity. Seongwoo steps aside.

“You don’t know that,” is his reply. He gives Seonho a smile and earns a scowl in return.

 

 

 

Seonho finds Seongwoo taking up space on the bench the next day and greets him with a: “Don’t you have friends?”

Seongwoo stretches before allowing himself to sprawl and take up more space. “Are you offering to be mine?”

Seonho deadpans and changes the subject. “Don’t you have homework or club activities or whatever you college kids do?”

“They’ll get done eventually.” Seongwoo stares at the clouds drifting at their own leisurely pace across the span of blue, the leaves rustling as they filter sunlight so that it doesn’t hit Seongwoo straight in the eye, and the occasional bird that flies by. He takes a glance at Seonho who is still doing yard maintenance with a broom in hand. “Don’t you have homework?”

“No,” Seonho’s reply is curt, startling Seongwoo. The issue is dropped after that.

 

 

 

“You really need to stop taking up space,” says a voice far more familiar than the elusive shop keeper.

Seongwoo still looks for him anyway and finds him preoccupied with some guest over tea. “A client?” he asks out of curiosity.

“You need to stop staring,” Seonho chides and shoves the broomstick into Seongwoo’s hands, “and you might as well make yourself useful while you are at it.”

 

 

 

“Where did you find him?” Jiyoung nods in the direction of Seongwoo who has taken up some aimless form of yard work, creating more dust than he cleans up.

“He came to me,” Minhyun says, curved lips hiding behind the porcelain cup.

She rests her chin in her hand, a sign of thought and Minhyun waits. Her eyes catch something Minhyun can’t even begin to guess at. Probably something good from the way she smiles, eyes glistening in amusement.

When she turns back to Minhyun all she says is “he’s attractive” while watching him carefully.

“I suppose,” Minhyun allows, gaze unwavering.

Jiyoung laughs as if Minhyun had passed some sort of exam. Faith in her perhaps. “He’s rare. People with latent powers like his don’t come around that often. And even when they do…” she trails off, deep in thought. Minhyun takes another sip of tea, savoring the floral aftertaste. “Either way, purification is even harder to come across. You should consider developing him.”

Minhyun turns to look at Seongwoo. “I already have Seonho.”

“You need someone to balance him out.”

 

 

 ☾

 

 

One simple chore quickly becomes a list of errands. Even Minhyun joins in on ordering Seongwoo around or telling him to tag along when resolving client cases.

Seongwoo had to track down the source of rumors for some kind of prophetic being, only to find a group of high school girls that had invoked some being in a crude game. A piece of paper, hangul scattered, a pencil shared between hands, and a never ending game. Seonho looked sick to the stomach. Minhyun unreadable once more. Seongwoo can’t remember how it was dispelled. All he recalled was reaching to grab the pencil clutched in the center of frenzied girls and blacked out after that.

By the time he woke up, the sun already had set. Seonho was shaking his head in disapproval the entire time and Minhyun allowed him to stay the night.

 

 

 ☾

 

 

He was stuck cleaning out the storage room that hadn’t seen the light of day in centuries, Seongwoo assumed. Seonho was off doing who knows what and Minhyun never had to clean or so he had observed despite Seonho adamantly telling him otherwise. Seongwoo grumbled under his breath as he moved boxes out into the courtyard so he could clean the crevices. He was so preoccupied he didn’t even notice the lady who walked in until she squealed: “I love yard sales!”

“This isn't a yard sale. Besides, we’re not selling anything —” Seongwoo is barely able to say it before he gets cut off. The lady had picked up a small cylinder canister that had somehow fell out of one of the boxes and turned to him, paying no attention to what he had just said.

“Sell this to me!”

“I can’t—” Seongwoo reaches to grab it when Minhyun seemingly materializes beside him, hand gently stopping Seongwoo from doing so. Plaint fingers against Seongwoo’s wrist as he lowers it down. And then it was as if he had never touched him in the first place as Minhyun turns his attention to the woman.

“It won’t bring you any fortune,” Minhyun says, voice impassive.

“Nonsense,” the lady insists, turning the cylinder in her hand, studying the pattern. “There are all sorts of good things to find in yard sales. And fortune depends on the individual. I am _full_ of good fortune.”

The cylinder pops open and the lady’s eyes widen as she spots the contents of it. “Is this a monkey paw?” waving it around. A shrunken little thing bound in strips of talismans.

Seongwoo looks to Minhyun for answers, concerned.

Minhyun nods. “It is.”

“Can I have it? Please? I’ll pay whatever,” she pleads.

Minhyun stiffens. “Is that what you truly desire?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes. Please. You have to sell it to me.”

“Fine.”

 

 

 

The next time Seongwoo asks about her is when the odd cylinder reappears at the front of the storage door. And all he gets is a cryptic “there are consequences to every decision.”

It isn’t until he asks Seonho does he get a whispered: “Her confidence was fatal. The mere notion of invincibility and the lack of regard or respect…” Seonho shakes his head once he realizes he may have lost Seongwoo.  “Desires can engulf us. Hers just manifested in that.”

Seongwoo places the monkey paw away and hopes he never sees it again.

 

 

 ☾

 

 

Seongwoo is taking a break with Seonho, who had started to begrudgingly accept Seongwoo’s company after he complimented Seonho’s tea making abilities, when he notices a new object in the common area: a silver framed photo sitting on the ledge. There’s an attractive woman in the picture, smiling at the photographer, white dress billowing and curled hair blown by the wind as she laughs.

“Someone you know?” Seongwoo asks out of curiosity, nodding in the direction of the shop keeper’s room.

Seonho takes a glance at the frame and frowns. “No, a client’s.”

“Why is it here?”

Seonho shrugs. “She claimed it was haunted and wanted it gone.”

“Is it?” Seongwoo leans forward. The woman turns around, back facing Seongwoo and he falls back in surprise.

Seonho fights a laugh but loses. “No. It’s a normal photo. I would know if it is haunted.”

“But it just moved!”

“So do gifs.”

No one notices, until much later, that the frame had its first drip.

 

 

 

When Seongwoo asks Minhyun about it all Minhyun says is: “It is merely a photograph and photographs simply record memories.”

“Then why would she want it gone? She seemed happy in it.” Seongwoo mentions, recalling the subsequent scenes in the picture. The woman turned around excitedly to greet a friend. The friend was tall, lips a bright red, dark hair cut short only reaching her chin. The frame seemed to melt every single time something new was added to the picture and Seongwoo thought it was a pity because the frame was a delicate craft.

Minhyun smiles, amused. “If only everything was as it seemed to the eye.”

 

 

 

The courtyard had been replaced by a simple room with a table in the center and the frame atop of it. The breeze stirs the white curtains, contrasting against the large window panes with their warm yellow light spilling in. Despite the change, the more pressing issue is the client before them. She’s tall, lips a bright red, dark hair cut short only reaching her chin. Seongwoo instinctively turns to the framed photograph.

Her nails are the same bright red when she brings it to her lips, chewing the tip. “So can you get rid of it?”

“It depends on the price.” Is all Minhyun says, unbothered by the woman who is turning anxious, pacing around the room.

The frame starts melting at an even faster rate and Seongwoo leans forward to get a glimpse at the changing scene depicted. The woman turns around, greets her friend, there’s a playful banter before the woman who looks exactly like the client grips the woman in the white dress by the shoulders and shoves. There’s a look of surprise, of betrayal as the woman in white falls off the ledge of the cliff. The photograph ends on a frame of the face of the woman with red lips: cruel, pleased.

“No, no, no, no, no,” the client cries out as she rushes to the frame, clutching it to her chest so that no one else can view what was depicted. “You promised,” she accuses Minhyun, one finger pointing at him threateningly; “you would dispose of it.”

“For a price,” Minhyun repeats. His expression gives nothing away, even after the revelation. Seongwoo almost gapes at him.

“Anything. Please! Just make it disappear!”

“As you wish.” And with a wave of his hand the photo starts fading. “But the price is that you must never be captured by an object with lens. Whether it is a camera or a video recorder or a CCTV. If you do,” Minhyun gestures at the air where the picture had vanished, “the exact scene will be broadcasted and everyone will witness what was captured.”

The woman wails in anguish and runs out. The courtyard is restored. Seongwoo looks to Minhyun for an explanation but all he gets is Minhyun who gathers the melted silver and makes that vanish as well.

“Guilt. Regret. Desire can take many forms you see.”

“Why does it feel like you are going to follow that up with _much to learn, you still have, my young padawan_ ,” Seongwoo frowns.

Minhyun laughs at that, eyes disappearing behind crescents. Seongwoo’s expression softens as he smiles at the shop keeper.

 

 

 ☾

 

 

Seongwoo has gotten used to the courtyard shifting to adapt to the client’s idea of what the shop should look like. Well, it had taken a few times before Seongwoo quieted down and stopped making a ruckus about what form it took. Admittedly, it was the looks of disapproval from Seonho and Minhyun before he decided to drop the matter entirely. It was just how things were in this place. Laws of science stopped being applicable after you stepped through those doors.

 

 

 

( “Why did I see the courtyard my first visit?” Seongwoo asked one time.

Seonho just wrinkles his nose. “Because you’re abnormal. Now move your feet.” Broom knocking into Seongwoo’s knees for extra measure.

Seongwoo doesn’t think that’s the answer but Seonho is all he got since Minhyun won’t answer him. )

 

 

 

Today it took on the appearance of a traditional _mudang_ dwelling, like any other room in this abode except decorated excessively with painted portraits and other objects Seongwoo doesn’t know the names for. He frowns, wondering what kind of individual could be arriving to warrant this.

“Is this where we can get our house exorcised?” The man inquires upon entering, seemingly dubious despite all the decorations. Another man follows behind him, just a few centimeters taller.

“I really don’t think we need it, Eunki,” the taller man whispers, but it is loud enough for everyone to hear, knocking his hand against the other man’s arm.

“We didn’t pay for a new house to be disturbed by noises every single night,” Eunki hisses in return. “Trust me on this. Okay, Jung Jung?”

The taller one visibly pouts before bumping Eunki’s arm as payback. “Stop calling me that. That was one time and I was drunk.”

Eunki pats the man’s arm in comfort. “Fine, Zhengting.”

Minhyun walks into their line of sight and the conversation shifts.

“What’s wrong with the house?” is all Minhyun asks when the flood of information begins.

“Everything, honestly,” Eunki begins, animatedly, “should’ve known something was wrong when the house was offered for such a low price despite being of a decent size, of a nice location, and fully furnished. But new time buyers right?” He gestures at himself and Zhengting. “And a first house? We were ecstatic about the deal, so we signed and—”

“He thinks it’s haunted,” Zhengting interjects.

Eunki just picks up from where Zhengting leaves off: “yeah well. It is. Ever since we moved in, every night, there are sounds like people running around but every time we investigate there’s nothing at all.”

“When you moved in, was there any odd spaces with anything left behind? Did you move anything around?” Minhyun asks, thoughtful.

“Nothing really,” Eunki says.

“Well there is that attic-like storage space that had a few old boxes we decided to throw out or go through another day,” Zhengting recalls, reminding Eunki as well.

“I mean you have to clean and make sure everything is nice before moving in, right?”

Minhyun’s silent this time.

“So can you or can you not exorcise?” Eunki asks.

“We can,” Minhyun finally speaks up, “for a price.”

“Anything we can afford, of course,” Eunki says and adds: “as long as it isn’t our rings. I still haven’t finished the payment.”

Seongwoo’s smile grows when he catches a glimpse of matching gold bands and the pink that dusts their cheeks.

“No,” Minhyun says with a gentle smile, “I wouldn’t ask for something so precious for a mere exorcism job.”

Minhyun offers a hand, inviting the two clients in, “Come in, let’s have some tea while my disciples do the rest of the work. Full refund if it fails.”

Once they are settled and served tea, Minhyun ushers Seonho and Seongwoo outside. “You know what to do,” he says, nodding at Seonho who nods in return.

“Do what?” Seongwoo asks as Seonho pinches his arm.

“I’ll explain while we go. It’s rude to leave guests alone.” And Seongwoo gets dragged away. At least he gets to witness the amusement dancing in Minhyun’s eyes.

 

 

 

Seonho doesn’t tell Seongwoo anything until they reach Eunki and Zhengting’s house. His expression becomes sullen upon seeing the place, shaking his head. “Why would anyone…” he mutters under his breath.

Seongwoo waits until Seonho notices him staring before finally explaining. “Minhyun had guessed right.” Like he usually is, Seongwoo notes. “But he didn’t’ want to scare our guests. It’s fortunate they are still of good health despite the weeks they’ve spent living here.”

“There are old and ancient spells, lost because most rely on oral traditions and the interest of the next generation, but they still linger as reminders.” Seonho glances at the supposed attic and if Seongwoo didn’t know this kid he would have thought it was a look of longing. “Spells used just to boast and objects sealed and forgotten. The rage just builds and misfortune befalls those who unwittingly free them.”

Seonho turns to look at Seongwoo. “There are probably two dolls rampaging around in there, if we are lucky. More, if we aren't. Deceased and malevolent spirits forced into inanimate objects, allowing them to be animated and do the bidding of the one who summoned them. They were either forgotten or too hard to control so they were sealed in the end and our two clients had accidentally broken the seal upon cleaning. Which is why Minhyun is taking care of them now, making sure no other ailments linger after we do our part here.”

“And what’s our part here?” Seongwoo asks, almost delighted by the look of surprise Seonho gives him. Seongwoo shrugs and adds, “I’ve experienced a lot of inexplicable things this past month. Better not to question and learn about them slowly.”

The _you’re not half bad_ is barely audible and Seongwoo beams upon making that out.

 

 

 

Seongwoo really is tired of being at the bottom of the hierarchy. He gets that Minhyun owns the shop but why does Seonho get to order him around too? Since when did he become Manager of Ong Seongwoo?

“Ready?” Seongho asks with a smile and he whacks Seongwoo’s back, shoving him out of the spell he just drew in the front yard.

“No,” Seongwoo growls but that gets ignored.

“Just run around until they get agitated enough to give you a chase and come back here. Easy enough for a five year old right?” Seonho beams.

Seongwoo throws a “ _you’re_ the five year old. _I’m_ twenty-two” before running into the house.

 

 

 

When he heard ‘dolls’ Seongwoo had imagined porcelain figurines with vibrant clothing and soft complexions. Or maybe like the ones in the horror movies that just looked down right grotesque and abandoned, warranting all the pent up anger. Instead it is both better and worse than what he had imagined. They were puppets. Wooden, faceless, simple as if someone was too lazy to give them anything else but just the basics. But what they lacked in appearance, it was made up for in the joints. The mobility was traumatizing and not only did Seongwoo have to run, he also had to dodge whatever object the puppets had gotten their hands on. Seongwoo hoped Minhyun was going to give the clients a discount for the amount of damage he was causing trying to lure them into the circle Seonho had drawn.

Seongwoo tries to catch his breath behind a door, covering his mouth to hopefully lessen the amount of noise he was making, hoping they were blind and senseless. He forgot Seonho’s warning and almost lost a limb trying to flee from his hiding spot. The door was broken. So was the lamp that broke it. At this rate Minhyun was going to have to call a cleanup crew, free of service, for Mr. Hong and Mr. Zhu.

It took a while before he even got them this upset. Insults were handy with people but apparently they worked well with the dead as well.

Seongwoo was mostly displeased by the fact that Seonho seemed to be bored whenever he caught a glimpse of the boy from the window. They could trade. Seongwoo wasn’t really the _one man does all_ type of person to begin with.

It takes another fifteen minutes before Seongwoo can safely escape from the house, two puppets hot on his heels. Seonho’s expression stiffens. Seongwoo collapses into the spell and watches as the two dolls get suspended in air. They shrink and fall to the ground. Two regular wood models lie on the grass, motionless. Seonho bows his head and mutters a prayer.

 

 

 

Eunki and Zhengting take the news well.

“Half of the stuff was the previous owner’s anyway,” Eunki shrugs before giving a coy smile in Zhengting’s direction, “means we can decorate to our liking.” Zhengting smiles in return.

“Do visit if you hear the noises again,” Minhyun says as he bids them farewell and they thank him once again.

The moment they step out the door Seongwoo collapses on the bench.

“Well done,” Minhyun tells Seonho as he ruffles the boy’s hair. Seonho beams, almost glows from the gesture.

Seongwoo just stares, allowing Seonho a few moments before opening his mouth.

“I suppose he did well too so I’m going to go fetch salonpas patches and tea for the guy who really needs to build some stamina,” Seonho says before Seongwoo can complain about anything, throwing him a look of disdain and rushes off.

Seongwoo just looks up at Minhyun from where he’s lying and Minhyun watches him carefully.

“I suppose I should thank you for helping him out,” Minhyun says after a while, hand reaching out, centimeters away from Seongwoo’s bangs. Seongwoo had long given up on styling them after all the afternoons he had spent in this courtyard doing manual labor.

Seongwoo almost asks _why_ when Seonho returns with a platter for three and the boy nearly thrusts it onto the bench, forcing Seongwoo to roll over or sit up. Seongwoo chooses the latter.

“Beef? Really?” Seongwoo asks, positively sparkling as he turns to look at Minhyun.

Minhyun just chuckles before seating himself. “Just felt in the mood for it.”

“Definitely not because you helped out. Keep dreaming,” Seonho snaps as he uses his tongs to keep Seongwoo away and in place until he was done barbecuing for everyone. Apparently that was a cooking hazard because Minhyun just gently pried the tongs away from Seonho and took up the meat grilling himself.

Seongwoo feels warm that night: a full stomach accompanied by a sense of warmth and belonging he hadn’t felt in a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one asked but I thought it was important to mention that in chapter 2, the "original" shop description was modeled after Mr. Gold's pawn shop in _Once Upon a Time_. The real abode/courtyard modeled after the hospital Grandpa Choi works and lives at with Yeonkyung in _Live Up to Your Name_.
> 
>  _Mudang_ refers to a female shaman.
> 
> A disclaimer of sorts because this is XXXHolic inspired with many cases borrowed from it but it will not follow it exactly. As manga readers might know, the last case in this chapter was taken from Natsume Yuujinchou. Thank you for the interest and the comments! Eventually I'll start chapter summaries as a warning for pairings and other notable mentions.


	4. 尋夢者《上》Find Your Way By Moonlight

A familiar face throws his arm around Seongwoo’s shoulder, bringing him closer. “How’s your afternoon looking like? We got a blind date set up with a group of girls from another university. Wondering if you could join us.”

Seongwoo schools his face into something that hopefully seems pleasant, while wondering why someone he’s only seen in a few of his classes would want to invite a stranger to one of these gatherings. “Unfortunately, I already have plans,” Seongwoo sees himself saying with a smile. He watches himself nod his head politely before waving a hand and walking in the other direction.

The friend of the one who invited him walks up, sneer on his face. “Told you he would say that.”

The one who invited him clicks his tongue in disdain. “What a waste of his face. I would use it so much better.”

Seongwoo wonders why he’s been forced to hear this.

 

 

 

The scene shifts.

 

 

 

He’s wearing a uniform now, laughing along with whatever joke was being relayed, giving one in return. He laughs but it never reaches his eyes. Once the bell rings he bids his friends goodbye with an excited wave of the hand and rushes off. Seongwoo watches his receding figure and how the laughters and smiles leech out of the room with it.

An old friend, a dear one that he hasn’t been in contact with for many years speaks up first. “It seems like he’s just going through the motions of living.” Worry takes its place in their eyes and they nod in unison.

Seongwoo continues to wonder why he’s watching all of this. He tastes bile in the back of his throat.

 

 

 

The scene shifts once more.

 

 

 

This time it is something unfamiliar. Neither events of earlier that day nor one of a few years ago. There are five teens on their knees, in a semi-circle, in front of a mass of black suspended in air. It takes a while before Seongwoo realizes that there is a person in that mass. Slender wrists and fingers, sleek black hair, and eyes filled with melancholy as if she had witnessed far too much misery for one soul to bear. It was as if she was being consumed, tendrils of black wrapping around her body, spreading as each second ticks by. It could almost be described as beautiful if not for the sorrow that filled the place. An ache fills his chest.

“Please,” one of the five begs, words broken up by sobs, “we still need you.”

The woman’s words are gentle and stern, like a mother to a child when she says: “you do not. You are far more prepared than you believe.”

“What if we run into something we can’t fix? What if we run into a situation where the price can’t be settled right?” another one of the five speaks up.

“You have each other.” Her voice is gentle as the wind and the words seem to caress them, easing the tension just a bit.

“We still need you.”

There’s a smile on her face and she glances at the five around her feet. “Let me rest.”

And as if she had sensed Seongwoo’s incorporeal presence she turned to face Seongwoo.

“I still have enough time to spare for one last meeting, so speak,” she says and it might be the trick of the eye but Seongwoo thinks time has froze. The tendrils stop growing and the five have not moved nor noticed him yet.

There are a million questions that bubble to the tip of Seongwoo’s tongue but he chooses to address the bizarre situation first: “what’s happening?”

She chuckles. It sounds like the tinkle of wind chimes or the toll of the church bell. “This,” she gestures with the only hand with mobility left, the other buried in tendrils of black, the edge of her sleeve contrasting against the white of her fingers. It takes a moment before Seongwoo realizes that her robe is as dark as night, making the mass seem to occupy more space than it really is, dotted with a trail of butterflies. “Is a consequence. I’m sure you have heard from them,” she nods in the direction of the five, “that desires consume.”

Seongwoo waits. Her kind seem to like taking their time.

“We are the same,” she says, voice gentle, lips pulled in a thin smile, “but within these four walls time can stand still if— you make an exchange. And I have lived my life span multiple times over. Now that wish — this desire of mine — will consume me too.”

“But why me? Why now? Why all of that before?” the questions start spilling over.

She smiles and holds Seongwoo’s gaze. “There is no such thing as a coincidence in this world. There is only the inevitable.”

And Seongwoo kinda gets it, in a roundabout way. It doesn’t mean he likes it.

But before he can protest or make any sound there’s a “farewell, Ong Seongwoo” and time catches up to them. The tendrils spread at an even faster rate than before as if they knew they had been halted and would hate to undergo that again. Her fingers seem to reach out before they too disappear. She vanishes. The sorrow of five individuals fills the room.

Only the robe is left. It drifts. Seongwoo plucks it out of the air before it touches the ground and drapes it over his arm.

One of them turns around and glances at Seongwoo. The dream alters again and the teen becomes a child, no longer kneeling but instead standing before him, staring up at Seongwoo with such resolute eyes it reminds Seongwoo of someone. Someone both familiar and foreign. It feels like the name is just on the tip of his tongue, so close to recalling.

The child keeps staring at him. Seongwoo reaches out.

Ah.

It’s

“Hwang—”

 

 

 

Seongwoo sits up. “Minhyun.” The last part rolling off his tongue as he glances around him. He’s no longer in his bed at home but instead on the outdoor bench in the courtyard he knows by heart.

The man mentioned is staring at Seongwoo, brows furrowed in a way that almost prompts Seongwoo to poke at it, make it return to its peaceful state. “How...?”

It means so many things at once but Seongwoo traces Minhyun’s gaze and sees the robe with butterflies beside him. Seongwoo picks it up, puzzled. “How did I get here and how did this get here?”

Minhyun’s face is emotionless but his eyes harden. Sorrow probably. “You used the realm of dreams to travel, close distances, landed here.” Seongwoo picks up the inflection in his tone. Sorrow indeed. “It’s a remnant of a dream, long gone,” Minhyun says, taking a step closer. This time his eyes are distant, lost in reminiscence. Seongwoo doesn’t blame him.

“I always assumed it had gone with her,” Minhyun says so quietly that Seongwoo would have missed it if he wasn’t paying attention. Minhyun pulls the robe draped over his shoulders even closer. “But since it is a fragment of that realm I suppose we should return it to its proper place.” Is all Minhyun says when he turns around and walks away. Second nature prompts Seongwoo to follow him.

 

 

☾ 

 

 

Seongwoo walks through the same summoned door as he did the first day. There’s no tunnel. No endless hallway of darkness. Just a vast empty lot.

“Patience.” Is all Minhyun says, staring up at the sky. A crescent moon illuminates the sky, outlining the presence of clouds. They wait.

A dot in the distance becomes larger and it takes a while before Seongwoo makes out what looks like an anteater with an impossible amount of balloons in his hand, all of different colors, glowing. It takes the creature a moment before it lands. Its eyes brighten up upon arrival.

“Minhyun!” the creature exclaims as it runs towards them. “Have you brought me something good today?”

The words come out rushed and he excitedly looks around until it spies the robe in Seongwoo’s hand. There’s a small gasp of surprise as the creature ventures closer, in awe as it reaches to caress the robe.

“Are you going to sell it to me?” it looks up at Seongwoo, eyes sparkling, “please say yes.”

Seongwoo looks to Minhyun for answers and receives a nod. “He's a dream collector. They collect and nurture dreams and nightmares, using dream fragments, then sells them for quite a high price.” When Minhyun utters the last part he’s looking pointedly at the dream collector who protests a bit.

“A fair price! It's hard to nurture them into good dreams. Takes years in fact!”

Seongwoo looks back down at the garment in his hand, wondering why Minhyun had chosen to do this. He must have his reasons Seongwoo decides, so he smiles and asks the dream collector: “how much in return?”

The dream collector holds up two fingers. Minhyun frowns.

“Seven,” he haggles, an arm on his hip. Seongwoo’s amused. “You could tell it was an excellent dream upon arrival. It deserves at least seven dream balloons in return.”

The dream collector makes a face that almost made Seongwoo pick him up and give him a squeeze right then and there.

“Five,” the dream collector settles for. “No more, no less.”

“Deal.”

He shakes hands with both of them before handing five balloons to Seongwoo. There’s a twinge in Seongwoo’s chest when he hands over the robe.

“Remember,” the dream collector says while sadly parting with his balloons, “tie them to the bed when you want to use it.”

Seongwoo nods as the dream collector wipes away a tear. Then he reaches into his pocket, blows up a balloon, and introduces the robe to it. The robe gets absorbed. A tiny flock of butterflies run its way across the balloon before fading from sight. The balloon glows brighter than the rest of the collection in the dream collector’s hand.

The dream collector gives them a small salute. First to Seongwoo: “till next time!” Then turning to Minhyun, “remember me when you come across anything else! Especially of this caliber.”

Minhyun lips curl in the semblance of a smirk. “So you admit it was of a high caliber.”

The dream collector blushes and busies himself with the balloons in hand before he slowly gets lifted up, escaping the scene with enthusiastic waves. Seongwoo smiles fondly as he waves in return.

“I still have somewhere to go,” Minhyun says, when the dream collector had disappeared from view, nodding at the door that had just reappeared. “I’ll see you later.”

Seongwoo takes one last glance at the sky before exiting this realm.

 

 

☾

 

 

“You said he was able to travel through the dream realm, without being trained?” Jiyoung asks, deep in thought as she processes the information.

“I took him through it once,” Minhyun admits, “but he knows how perilous it could be.”

“I don't think he was lucid. It was unconscious, but it means his ability is awakening.”

“He should have appeared at Jonghyun’s place,” Minhyun presses.

“Perhaps something unconsciously drew him back,” Jiyoung guesses.

Minhyun thinks about the way his name sounded, rolling off Seongwoo's tongue. He looks away.

“Seems like you answered that yourself,” she notes, amused. 

He gives her a look before recalling the robe and the embroidery.

“He met  _her_. None of us have, not once since she...” Minhyun trails off, clenching his fists, “why?”

“You know what she would say in reply to that question.” Jiyoung puts a comforting hand on Minhyun’s back.

“Did you foresee this too?” Minhyun looks at Jiyoung accusingly.

Jiyoung gives him a shrug in return. “I see many things but not all. I had an inkling,” she concedes, “his presence is too peculiar to be left up to chance.”

Minhyun falls silent and Jiyoung resumes shuffling through what Minhyun identifies as painted cards.

 

 

 

( “These,” Jiyoung says as she spreads a deck of cards with characters on them, “are tools mortals with trace amount of abilities use. It helps them focus, raises the chances of divining the right fortune.”

“You don't need these,” Minhyun notes.

“I mostly examine these tools for fun. Study them for their efficacy in my spare time or just use them as a way to help pass a long day.” She smiles, picking one up and showing it to Minhyun.

“Isn’t true divining better than guesswork?”

“Seeing too much can be detrimental.” She gives him a sad smile. “However,” she allows, putting the card back down on the table, finger idly outlining the picture depicted, “too little can be misleading.” )

 

 

 

She gives him space and time. It takes a while before Minhyun speaks up again.

“When he first came,” Minhyun starts, “he saw the place as it was. Does he truly have no desire  — nothing strong enough to manifest itself — or is it due to his ability?”

“Why can't it be a bit of both?” Jiyoung asks in returns.

Minhyun turns pensive.

“You’re right. You always are,” he concludes in the end.

Jiyoung flashes him a smile before scolding him: “don't come empty handed next time. At least bring soju or I’ll have to start charging consultation fees.”

Minhyun laughs and promises.

 

 

☾

 

 

Seongwoo almost jumps and loses his hard earned balloons from someone tapping him from behind. When he looks around, there is nothing spare for a drifting plastic bag and a paw... _?_  He recoils.

“Sorry,” comes a voice. Seongwoo assumes it’s from the owner of the paw. It’s white, like a sock, so out of curiosity Seongwoo reaches out to touch it. The paw retracts with an “um.”

Seongwoo apologizes in return and bows for good measure but it earns a laugh. “I’m over here,” the disembodied voice says, while waving its paw, the bag swinging like a pendulum.

Seongwoo wishes someone was around to give him an explanation but it seemed as if Seonho was out doing errands and Minhyun had still not returned from wherever he went. “I can’t see you,” he admits.

“Oh!” the voice sounds surprised and if Seongwoo could see him, he was certain the owner of the voice was blushing. “My apologies, my name is Woojin. I can only manifest my hand so far. Hold on, let me go grab my—” he rushes off before he can finish the sentence.

What appears next is a “gumiho?” Seongwoo asks, surprised as a fox emerges from thin air, well dressed, with a navy apron.

“Ah right,” the gumiho says before he shifts, contorting into a human like form with a kind smile, mole under the right eye, and a shock of pink hair. Seongwoo can't help but wonder if the spirit just picked up a random barber shop magazine and assumed that was what  _humans_  dressed and looked like. “I didn’t think Minhyun would keep around a mortal without vision.”

Seongwoo’s sure the gumiho didn’t mean anything with that sentence so he just laughs it off and rubs the back of his neck. 

“Is he home?” the gumiho asks and Seongwoo shakes his head. The invisible Woojin must have knocked the gumiho to remind him that “I forgot to introduce myself.” He offers a hand that Seongwoo takes, eyes disappearing as his smile appears, “the name’s Daniel and this is my son.” His other hand pats what Seongwoo assumes is Woojin. “We run a street cart selling eomukguk and happened to be in the area. Can I just leave Minhyun and Seonho’s portion with you?”

Seongwoo pats his pockets. “I don't have anything to pay you with,” wondering if they used the same currency.

Daniel shrugs. “I’ll keep it on his tab.”

Seongwoo accepts the plastic bag from the paw and Daniel gets him another cup of fish cake for extra measure. “Eat up,” he says, eye twinkling, “it’s on Minhyun after all.” Seongwoo is tempted to do so until he realizes Seonho would never let him hear the end of it.

“This is good enough,” Seongwoo says and waves goodbye when the father and son turn to leave.

Something doesn’t sit right with him. He looks at the fish cake soup in one hand and the five balloons in the other. All this receiving and never giving in return. He thinks of the boy in his dream and that sullen expression. He thinks of the lady he doesn’t know the name of. He thinks of the little paw and the plastic bag held by it, seemingly too heavy for someone of that stature to carry. Seongwoo runs up to the two.

“Here,” he says, picking the brightest one and hands it to Woojin.

“I can’t possibly!” the boy insists.

Seongwoo smiles and ties the string around where he guesses Woojin's wrist is. “Next time, I hope to see you.”

It takes a moment, but the paw elongates to a hand and the Woojin folds his fingers, leaving just his pinky sticking out. “I promise.”

Seongwoo laughs, linking his pinky with Woojin’s and shakes on it.

 

 

 

Seonho doesn’t let Seongwoo hear the end of it. Not because of Minhyun’s tab but because “ _You_  got to see them? I haven't seen Woojin in forever! And  _you_  got to see them?”

Seonho laughs once in disbelief. Seongwoo looks to Minhyun for help but Minhyun is too busy trying to hide his own laughter by biting into a fish cake. How nice it must be to watch drama unfold from a safe distance in a corner.

“In my defense,” Seongwoo argues, holding his hands up, “I technically didn’t  _see_  Woojin. I met Daniel though.”

“That’s. Not. The point,” Seonho hisses, throwing a tantrum. “I’m  _this_  close to having Woojin admit that I’m  _hyung_  and more mature and...” he rambles on but Seongwoo tunes him out, grabbing another stick from the cup.

He stills for a moment. He’s taken two individuals’ opportunities to see someone they miss in one day. Guilt tastes like bile.

It takes Minhyun’s little pat at the empty space next to him to shake Seongwoo out of it. He forces a grin, adding flair into it as he skips over and sits down, elbows almost touching.

“Oh no you don’t.” Is all Seongwoo hears before he feels Seonho wedging himself between Minhyun and Seongwoo, forcing them apart as he settles down. “You should be grateful enough you are eating the best eomukguk in the world,” he sniffs, hugging the cup to his chest and swatting Seongwoo’s hand away whenever he tries to take another. Minhyun pushes his towards Seonho and Seonho decides to protect that one too.

Minhyun’s laughter fills the air like the chime of bells. Seongwoo surrenders his rights and lets Seonho nurse his sorrow with food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a huge thank you note to ao3 user landfill and fairyslush for holding my hand through each chapter and giving me the motivation to continue.
> 
> the next chapter won't be up till the weekday.


	5. Amusing, Sad, and Dear

A small, white cluster of feathers is attached to a fellow student's shoulder. Seongwoo does a double take as he turns around to catch another glimpse of it, doubting his own senses. It's still there, forming the shape of a pair of wings.

"Are you listening?” Jisung asks, regaining Seongwoo’s attention.

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

Jisung makes a frustrated noise at the back of his throat and Seongwoo takes another glimpse at the boy, reaffirming what he had just seen.

“That kid over there,” Seongwoo nods in the student’s direction, “do you notice anything different about him?”

Jisung turns and then frowns. “No. I’ve also never seen him. Someone you know from another class?”

Seongwoo shakes his head, wishing someone else was with him to explain, and drops the subject.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” Jisung picks up from where he left off, “I was thinking we should use this weekend to knock out a portion of our project. Get most of it done so we aren’t scrambling before the deadline.”

Seongwoo nods, deep in thought.

 

 

 

It’s a forgotten incidence as Seongwoo spends his afternoons at Minhyun’s place, occasionally running errands, and weekends working on this research project with Jisung. That is, until he sees the boy again.

 

 

 

More like Seongwoo brushes shoulders with the student.

“Tch.” He glares at Seongwoo. And then: “scram.”

“Woah, what is up with you today,” his friend says, patting the boy on the back. “Sorry,” he apologizes on the behalf of the boy, rubbing the back of his head with one hand and shoving the boy’s head down as a gesture, “he’s usually not like this.”

The boy makes another irritated click of his tongue and slaps his friend’s arm away. He storms off. The wings seem to be larger than before.

“I don’t know what’s up with him lately.” The friend looks on, concerned. “He used to be so meek, unable to speak up for himself. I don’t know what happened.”

“Oh sorry,” the friend says as if he’s realized he’s been rambling but Seongwoo didn’t mind. “I didn’t mean to detain you,” he chuckles and waves goodbye to Seongwoo in a way so friendly that Seongwoo finds himself returning it.

 

 

 

Every time Seongwoo catches a glimpse of the boy with wings, it seems bigger than before.

 

 

 

Then, one afternoon, on the way to his next class he witnesses a small fight breaking out. The boy with wings verbally assaulting someone who had the misfortune of disturbing him during lunch. His fists are raised, ready to engage. Seongwoo wonders if suspension over a fight is still applicable in university when the boy’s friend stops him.

There’s some struggle, more verbal abuse, and the friend gets punched in the eye.

He no longer needs to turn around for the wings to be seen. They are the size of those depicted on angels except Seongwoo’s never seen an angel with that much rage.

 

 

 

Then the rumors begin.

 

 

 

**“** _Wasn’t he a straight A student?_ **”**

**“** _Did he finally snap?_ **”**

**“** _I heard he got dumped by his girlfriend._ **”**

**“** _Didn’t he join a gang or something?_ **”**

 

 

 

“None of them are true, you know?” The friend says, nursing his forming black eye with an ice pack Seongwoo had grabbed for him. Seongwoo’s still wondering about how he ended up in this predicament in the first place. “Thanks for this,” he gestures at the ice pack and hints at the company, “by the way.”

Seongwoo shrugs. “I don’t have class till 3.”

“Still… thank you.” And then he launches into a long story, recounting his childhood, devotion in every syllable.

“I don’t get it. I don’t get how someone can change so suddenly but he’s still my friend, you know? I just wish there was something I could do to help.”

The individuals in that hanok like place come to mind. Seongwoo thinks he gets it now, finally, after twenty-two years of just breathing. So he nods in silent understanding.

 

 

 

On the way to shop, Seongwoo notices a feather, white, not unlike the ones sprouting from the student’s back. He picks it up.

 

 

 

“Where did you get that?” Seonho nearly yells when Seongwoo shows it to him. “Get rid of it! And stay away from it unless you want to become bait.”

But Seonho refuses to explain any further and leaves it at that.

 

 

 

Less than a week later, Seongwoo catches a glimpse of the boy with wings and his friend engaged in another argument.  He’s not sure what prompts him to do so, turning around and running towards the fray, ignoring Jisung’s greeting and skipping the lecture.

“I said,” the boy with wings hisses, slashing at his friend, “leave me alone!”

“I’m not going to!” Is the reply, desperate. “Put that down! You’ll hurt yourself.”

The boy continues to fight. The glint of a blade from the sun is the only clue Seongwoo has as to what the boy holds in his hand. He approaches anyway. Acting less and less like his former self lately, he finds himself thinking, amused. The boy turns on him just like he expected. And as Seongwoo had predicted, the friend takes a moment to catch his breath, reorient himself, and catch the boy by the wrist.

“Stop this,” the friend says, stern this time.

“No!” the boy shouts. The wings spread. “Why can’t I just do what _I_ want? Just leave me alon—”

The boy falls to his knees. The wings spread once more, taking flight, leaving the boy behind. It’s a bizarre sight. A pair of beautiful white wings with pitch black root like structures dangling from them. The tendrils reach for Seongwoo. The friend rushes to the boy’s side and Seongwoo takes a step back.

The wings combust into flames. Not unlike what happened to the feather after Seonho kicked up a ruckus and Seongwoo watched it burn in the palm of Minhyun’s hand.

Seongwoo turns around.

“Seonho warned you to be careful, lest you become bait.” The look on Minhyun’s face is austere, fire reflected in his eyes, robe swaying by the fumes from the incineration.

“What” Seongwoo begins.

“Leave your questions for later,” Minhyun cuts him off, finishing his job.

 

 

 

“No matter how loudly his friend calls him or shakes him, he won’t wake up. He just sits there with a blank expression on his face like a doll. Didn’t the wings detach? What has happened to him?” Seongwoo paces the length of the room as he rants.

“He won’t wake up,” Minhyun says, tone gentle.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been here for how long?” Minhyun asks, eyes somber, “haven’t you seen the ways desire can manifest?”

“So he was consumed?”

“Yes and no. He was consumed but it wouldn’t have been at such a rapid pace if not for the parasite — the wings. They look for the next host and devour the soul. He won’t wake up.”

“So you mean,” Seongwoo says, shaking, “I could have done something about it.” Minhyun’s soft _no, Seongwoo, that’s not what I said_ falls on deaf ears. The friend’s pleas still ring in Seongwoo’s ears. Guilt constricts his lungs. “I noticed the wings when they were smaller than the size of my hands. I could have asked about it. Could’ve gotten help.”

“Seongwoo,” Minhyun tries again to no avail. “It won’t detach unless the person wants it to. They usually don’t. It numbs a part of them and strengthens its hold on those who want to lose their sanity.”

Seongwoo thinks of his past self and laughs dryly. “I could’ve done something.”

Minhyun utters Seongwoo’s name again and reaches out. Seongwoo pulls away.

 

 

☾ 

 

 

“Seong—” Seonho calls before turning to Minhyun when Seongwoo just keeps walking, “why is he storming out like that?”

Minhyun just keeps watching until the door slams shut.

“Seonho.”

“Hmm?”

“Stop serving him tea.”

“Why? I thought Jiyoung  _seonsaengnim_ wanted to develop him. And the herbal tea—”

Minhyun looks in the direction of the front gate for one final time. “He’s not ready,” Minhyun says, tone final. “I wouldn’t wish upon anyone to carry this burden of sight.”

“What do you plan to do when he finds what he’s looking for?” Seongwoo asks, voice hushed, “Make him forget?”

Minhyun smiles in a way that makes Seonho want to hug him till he gives in and laughs from joy again. “I haven’t thought that far,” Minhyun confesses.

 

 

☾ 

 

 

When Seongwoo closes his eyes, he sees a face marred with desperation, yelling a friend’s name over and over again. The four balloons glow in the darkness of the room. It’s on a whim that Seongwoo decides to tie the green one to his bed.

 

 

 

“A visitor! A visitor!” Two children dance around Seongwoo in circles, rendering him unable to proceed forward. “Master, there’s a visitor!” they sing before running off to the man who has emerged from a room, gazing up at him in admiration.

“That’s enough 나나 and 비,” he chastises as he ruffles their hair affectionately. One continues beaming; the other makes a complaint about her hair being ruined. The man makes a promise to fix it later.

“What a pleasure to finally meet you, Ong Seongwoo,” the man says the moment his eyes meet Seongwoo’s.

 

 

 

He dresses nothing like Minhyun. A simple long-sleeved navy button up, quality of silk, paired with black pants. He notices Seongwoo observing and laughs as a way of explaining. “Just got off a call with the other four and was so tired I probably passed out.” He’s also nothing like Minhyun with his _you can call me Aron_ after bursting into laughter at Seongwoo’s surprise over how this stranger knew his name. In Seongwoo’s defense, he wasn’t surprised. He merely wasn’t prepared for another round of inexplicable dreams.

And as an afterthought, Aron adds: “Minhyun mentioned you again.”

“He talks about me?” Seongwoo asks out of curiosity. “Or does he complain?”

Aron gives him a look bordering mischief. “Maybe a bit of both.”

“I doubt it’ll be anything positive today,” Seongwoo says, kicking at the pebble on the ground.

“He’s concerned,” Aron admits, “but don’t tell him I said that.” The last part is accompanied with laughter and Seongwoo finds himself smiling.

“Do you also own a shop that grants wishes?” Seongwoo thinks back to the last dream and the five teens.

“Yeah.” Seongwoo looks around noting the space. Probably would have been unassuming in another country with its single house layout. In the backyard, where they are, there’s a small platform extended out from the sliding glass doors, suitable for admiring the garden and maybe the moon. The stars are missing in this realm. The moon hangs low, obscured by clouds.

“Did you hear about what happened today from Minhyun?”

There’s a small hum.

“We can’t save everyone.”

Seongwoo turns to look at the man. “Doesn’t mean you can’t _try_.”

“We can only help those who want to be helped. We maintain balance not fight evil.” Aron gives Seongwoo a small smile. “The world isn’t so simple. It’s not black and white. You should know that more than anyone.”

Seongwoo clenches his fist as Aron adds: “if we kept dwelling on what should’ve been done then no one would ever move on.”

The conversation falls silent.

“His friend is still waiting,” Seongwoo finally speaks up, “what if he made a wish?”

“The price for a soul is another one,” Aron says, looking up at the sky. The clouds have allowed a sliver of the moon to be seen and Seongwoo sees two other parasitic wings illuminated. He feels sick. “And what is to the say the same thing won’t happen again?”

“Then…” Seongwoo starts and Aron catches on.

“The only options are to live with it or forget. Memories, attachment, as if he had never existed and been a part of his life to begin with. But would he be happier like that? There’s no right choice and we bear the burden of wondering if this was the best option, if we could have done better.”

Aron laughs, patting Seongwoo on the back. “I bet when you decided to use one of the balloons you didn’t expect another prophetic dream.”

Seongwoo sighs in admittance. “I thought it would be a good dream.”

“It’s just a break from the nightmares.” Seongwoo closes his eyes. “Although these balloons aren’t powerful enough for fragments to be obtained, otherwise we’d run the dream collector out of business.”

Seongwoo laughs at that.

 

 

 

“Make your decision in the morning. Rest here for the night,” voice kind as he leads Seongwoo through his place before opening the front gate so that Seongwoo can see the street, locate this place. “Return when you need to. My doors will always be open to you, Seongwoo.”

 

 

 

When Seongwoo wakes up, the balloon string is limp. The green balloon lies on the floor deflated, punctured by holes.

He picks it up. He thinks of Aron's words and the way Minhyun's shoulders sag. The sorrow that seemed to have never dissipated since that one night a decade ago.

Seongwoo puts the balloon away in the drawer of his desk and visits the courtyard he's grown to call his own that afternoon.

 

 

☾

 

 

The tinkle of the doorbell announces the presence of another client and Seongwoo runs up to greet them. The shop has changed once more. A small entrance way with a step to indicate where guests can take off their shoes, a short corridor that allows a glimpse of a storage filled with lacquered cabinets, hiding untold treasures. There’s a boy with a kind smile and a case in his hand, around Seongwoo’s age with eyes that light up in a way he can only describe as twinkling. His hair is on the curly side, tinged in a soft orange hue. Polite as he grins and thanks Seongwoo again for taking him into the room where Minhyun has already seated himself. This room also has a wall of lacquered cabinets with a faint golden wind pattern against pitch black and a small table with two cushions in the center. Seongwoo sighs internally. It’s not the first time he’s been left out of the equation but the boy, who introduces himself as Youngmin, offers his seat to Seongwoo.

“He can stand,” Minhyun interjects without even sparing him a glance, “please, take a seat.”

Youngmin does as he’s told, thanking Minhyun and casting an apologetic glance at Seongwoo. If only everyone was as polite as Youngmin.

“What can I do for you, today?”

“My boyfriend,” Youngmin starts while bringing the case forward and unlocks it, revealing the instrument inside. It looks like a banjo but with a longer neck, three strings, and crafted entirely with wood with a snake skin membrane. “Plays many instruments. Although he’s focused on the guitar, he also treasured this _samhyeon_. It has been passed down for generations but he refuses to play it, remarking how it only sounded best in his grandmother’s hands.”

“But recently I found out that the plectrum that used to accompany it went missing," the boy continues, "and was hoping you could locate it for me.”

“Is that all?” Minhyun asks, eyes tracing the outline of the instrument.

Youngmin’s cheeks are tinged red. “His birthday is coming up. I wanted to…” Youngmin looks away, unable to meet Minhyun's eyes, “play it for him if possible.”

Seongwoo finds himself grinning. Minhyun looks at him, lips twitching in amusement. “There’s a small box with a goral emblazoned on it. Please bring that to me.”

Seongwoo finds it in the back of the storage room, listening to Minhyun and Youngmin sharing laughter over who knows what. He knows Youngmin is too kind to make fun of his predicament but he can’t say the same for Minhyun so he ignores it all. It’s a small box, no larger than the size of his palm, with a small goat like creature on the lid. Curiosity prompts him to open it. Sitting in the center of the velvet is the plectrum made of what Seongwoo suspects is animal horn. He closes it and brings it back to the client.

“I can’t remember where I came across it,” Minhyun says, eyes soft, “but I’m glad it’s returning to where it belongs.”

Youngmin smiles, using both hands to carefully carry the box. “Thank you,” he says, meaning every word. “I hoping this would restore its sound,” he laughs, mostly at himself. Seongwoo gets it but within these walls anything is possible so he’s not surprised when Minhyun speaks up.

“It will. Either you or your boyfriend can play it and it would sound the same as it once did.” A pause. Then warns: “But only once.”

“Thank you,” Youngmin says once more, eyes earnest. “I’m sure Sewoon would be delighted.” And bows. Both Minhyun and Seongwoo return it.

 

 

 

Later that week Seongwoo sees Youngmin again with a boy he’s never met. When he calls out neither of them turn around so he catches up.

“Ah,” the boy Seongwoo has never met before but assumes is Sewoon sounds, voice brittle. “You’re the one that found me.”

Seongwoo blinks surprised.

“Thank you,” Youngmin says. There’s an odd pattern on his cheek that almost makes it look scaly. “I’ve yearned for this for so long.” His eyes are kind, affectionate. His smile grows wide when the Sewoon look alike embraces the Youngmin look alike from behind. Something tugs at Seongwoo’s chest.

A song starts playing in the background and Seongwoo closes his eyes to enjoy it.

The last refrain draws to a close. When Seongwoo opens his eyes again he sees their foreheads pressed against each other, soft whispers tumbling from lips. The Sewoon look alike shatters and crumbles away. The Youngmin look alike gathers the shards in his hands and looks straight into Seongwoo’s eyes. With one last _goodbye_ he too falls apart and fades.

 

 

 

Seongwoo wakes up, cheeks damp. The chorus of the song from the dream plays one last time.

 

 

☾ 

 

 

In the midst of the sweltering heat of summer Minhyun sits on the table bench, supporting his weight with one hand, and fans himself with the other. Sweat makes Seongwoo feel like he’s trapped in his own shirt after a morning of yard work. He misses the lazy summer days spent on the floor of his bedroom with a manhwa in hand or a popsicle. He could really use one right now.

Minhyun tilts his head back until he catches Seongwoo’s eyes and smiles in a way that makes Seongwoo’s heart soar. Seongwoo wonders if Minhyun has finally guessed at his desire of having a popsicle or three in this heat and was going to proffer it out of the blue, free of charge.

“I have a job for you,” Minhyun says, tone light. Seongwoo’s heart drops beyond the eighteen layers of hell. “Seonho has the details.” He nods in the boy’s direction. The boy had spent the morning dusting the interior of the house, barely working up any sweat. “Go with him.”

Seongwoo really, really ought to get paid for the amount of work he does around here.

 

 

 

“We need to fill twelve of these jugs between noon and two. If we carry two at one time we’ll be able to finish it in three days but...” Seonho trails off, giving Seongwoo a once over, eyes staying on his arms and frowns. “Let's do this in six.”

“We could do it in four if Minhyun helped,” Seongwoo says, looking in the direction where Minhyun had lounged.

“Master Minhyun is busy and has more important matters to attend to than someone I know,” Seonho gestures vaguely, which really was unnecessary all things considered. Seongwoo hefts one of the jugs and decides that doing it in six days was more feasible than three. Even the cloth Minhyun had provided was going to make this a chore with the jug’s size. It was clear glass, rounded, with a metal lid to prevent the contents from spilling.

“It’s special. Forged by request,” Seonho explains. It also sums up the rest of this task.

 

 

 

When Seongwoo inquires why they are traveling by foot, all he gets is the same cryptic message, a  _stop complaining_ , and  _devout saints never took short cuts_. He receives a glare when he argues that he has never been nor is planning to become a saint. And when Seongwoo asks again, Seonho snaps: “fine. Let’s travel by an automobile. Don't blame me when you have to take this trip again because the water is unusable.” Seongwoo shuts up after that.

It’s almost a forty-five minute walk to get to their destination. Seongwoo finds himself staring at a mansion.

“Is it really okay to be doing this?” Seongwoo whispers as Seonho pushes open the front gate and just walks right in.

The garden is unkempt. Weeds ruling over what Seongwoo assumes was once the flower beds. There’s ivy growing up one wall, covering the faded yellow paint of the house. To the side of the garden is a boarded up place that Seonho just tears apart, revealing the mouth of a well. He dusts off his hands. “Your turn.”

Seongwoo just looks at him blankly.

“Draw the water from the well. Fill the jugs, remember? We should be done in thirty minutes.”

Seongwoo makes a face before getting to work. How hard could it be?

 

 

 

The jugs are seemingly endless, Seongwoo learns after losing count of how much water he’s drawn. He also can't see the bottom of the well so he can only assume that it is also endless.

“Can't we take turns?” he asks. His arms had already filed their complaint five minutes ago.

Seonho shows his arms to Seongwoo, accompanied by a pout. “I'm a five year old remember? I can’t do anything with these arms.”

“That is not how— Don't use my words—” Seongwoo groans in frustration. “You—” Seonho gives him a shit eating grin and Seongwoo gives up entirely.

They fill two jugs with just a minute to spare. Seonho does all the cheerleading and lip service as he rushes Seongwoo out of the mansion. The jugs are even heavier filled up, obviously, and Seongwoo struggles to carry it. When he turns to get one last glimpse of the abandoned garden, he sees a lock of blonde hair from the second story window.

“There’s someone in there,” he nudges Seonho who pays him no attention.

“There’s no one here.”

Seongwoo chalks it up to an overactive imagination and decides to leave it at that.

 

 

 

The same routine happens the next day. Minhyun sends them off, Seonho chides Seongwoo, Seongwoo does all the heavy work, and when Seongwoo’s ready to leave the mansion a gentle wind stirs the white laced curtains. Seongwoo spots a figure behind it. Seonho continues to ignore him, forcing Seongwoo to gather his jug and catch up to the boy.

 

 

 

Day 3: Seonho tells him to stop being so paranoid.

 

 

 

Day 4: winds billow once more and this time he sees the lady from the second floor staring straight at him so he walks faster.

 

 

 

Day 5: the lady hasn’t moved from her position and something about her bugs Seongwoo, jogging an old memory he can’t quite put a finger on.

 

 

 

They had just finished drawing up the last bucket of water and pouring it into the jug when the wind picks up. One of the cloths Minhyun has lent to them, to help them carry the jugs better, gets blown away. Seonho cries out. Luckily it gets snatched on something in the second floor, right next to the window where Seongwoo had spotted the lady.

“I don’t think it is a good idea...” Seongwoo starts as Seonho immediately turns towards the mansion to retrieve the cloth.

“Nonsense,” Seonho retorts. “What kind of attendant would I be if I lost something my master lent to me?”

Seonho politely announces his entrance before he forces the door open and storms up the stairs. Seongwoo follows behind, anxious. A sense of foreboding plagues him.

Dust. Neglect. But no spider webs. No rats. No cockroaches roaming around. Seongwoo speeds up his pace to catch up to Seonho.

“Excuse me,” Seonho announces once again before opening the door to the upstairs room Seongwoo had seen from the front gate. It’s a simple room. White cabinets, a simple bed in a pink hue, and a dresser to the side. There’s a chair directly in front of the window. Before Seongwoo can stop Seonho, the boy reaches out and shakes the resident in the chair.

She falls out. Dress and hair spilling, contrasting against the white tiled floor. Eyes blank, staring soullessly in front of her.

Seonho steps back, shaken.

Seongwoo holds his hand up to her nose. Nothing. He presses his fingers against her wrist. Again, nothing. But other than that, she seems to be in perfect condition.

“A corpse?” Seongwoo asks, turning to Seonho for questions. Seonho is pale. As if he’d collapse at any moment. As if the mere wind could make it happen.

Seonho covers his mouth, turns to the corner, and his back arches as if he’s about to regurgitate his stomach’s contents. Nothing comes up. Then he, too, falls.

Seongwoo catches him. Seonho is light, lighter than what is humanly possible. Seongwoo looks around the room; a panic reflex. He sees the empty eyes again and remembers a pair of wings. He shakes his head, hoping to shake off the feeling as well and throws one of Seonho’s arms around him.

 

 

 

Seongwoo doesn’t know how he makes it back, hauling two jugs and one person. Maybe adrenaline. It doesn’t matter. As if he had sensed something wrong, Minhyun rushes out to greet them and carries Seonho back inside. Seongwoo thinks he’s lost it at this point because Seonho feels even lighter than he had been at the mansion. He sets down the jugs and quickly follows Minhyun inside.

“What’s happening?”

Minhyun turns to Seongwoo. “I’ll explain at a later date, I promise. But for now... Please, I—”

“Tell me what I can do to help,” Seongwoo offers with a smile that gets returned with a quiet  _thank you_.

Seonho is lying there, pale, still.

“I need you to help me craft a spell. Only you can do it so...” Minhyun trails off, looking at Seonho again as if he’s trying to double check his status. “There’s a box at the very back of the room.  _Hanmun_  letters in gold. There should be a brush next to it and an ink well beside it. Please pour some water from the jug you just brought in with you as well.”

Minhyun rushes around the room, tweaking with decorations as Seongwoo runs off to go grab the items listed. One of the ‘decorations’ is a reflective mirror.

 

 

 

“Dip the brush into the water,” Minhyun instructs as he leans over Seongwoo’s shoulder, inspecting his work. “Squeeze the drops into the well. Now grind the ink stick.”

Seongwoo doesn’t have time to ask Minhyun why he’s the one doing all of this with Minhyun little praises given here and there. Phrases like  _keep going_ or  _you’re doing well for a beginner_ all uttered into Seongwoo’s ear. He has to fight the urge to duck his head in embarrassment and the heat trying to crawl its way into his cheeks. Minhyun continues his instructions: altering between drops of water and grinding the ink stick until Minhyun is satisfied with the product.

Then he rolls out a huge sheet of paper.

“We need to purify him,” Minhyun says as if it explains anything. “I need you to draw the spell for me.”

And again, Seongwoo does it under Minhyun’s tutelage.

_A bit wider, press down harder, there you go._

Seongwoo steps back and takes a long look at what he had just created. It looks like some kind of talisman and he has no idea if he’s done well or not ( except for Minhyun’s praises that Seongwoo suspects are out of courtesy ). But the look on Minhyun’s face makes it worth it.

He helps Minhyun transport Seonho onto the spell he had just created. Seonho seems on the verge of fading at any moment.

Minhyun kneels, eyes closed to concentrate, one hand supporting the other as he starts chanting. The symbols Seongwoo had helped draw quiver and seem to peel away from the paper at an awfully slow pace. Minhyun’s eyebrows knit tighter. The symbols tremble and begin to equilibrate. When Seongwoo looks at Minhyun again he notices the sheen of sweat on his forehead.

He grabs a towel, dips it in the bucket of water from the well, squeezes it dry, and begins dabbing at Minhyun’s forehead. The tension in the eyebrows lessens. Seongwoo smiles and Minhyun continues chanting, the corner of his lip pulling upwards.

 

 

 

Seongwoo loses count of how many times he rinses the towel and wrings it dry.

 

 

 

The sun is long gone when the symbols crawl over Seonho, marking every inch of his body before being absorbed.

Minhyun breathes out a sigh of relief before nearly doubling over, if not for Seongwoo’s hand that had steadied him. There’s gratitude and relief on Minhyun’s face. Seonho looks more solid than before. Seongwoo exhales, shoulders relaxing from a tension he doesn't know how long he’s held onto.

It takes Minhyun a moment or two before he gets up again, carrying Seonho back to the futon and tucks him in. His fingers brush against the boy’s bangs.

“Stay here for the night,” Minhyun offers, turning around to face Seongwoo, “there’s the guest room you once stayed at. The blankets, pillows, and mattress are in the closet.”

“And you?”

“Here.” Minhyun looks back at Seonho. “I want to make sure he’s okay.”

Seongwoo seats himself next to Minhyun. “Let me keep watch with you.”

Minhyun seems to consider it before giving Seongwoo a nod.

 

 

 

“Was it like the boy with the wings?” Seongwoo asks.

Minhyun nods. “It’s a strong curse. That parasite had probably taken everything living in the house with it.”

“And Seonho?”

“The lingering remnants affected him.” Is all Minhyun is willing to disclose. 

 

 

 

The spell had taken a lot out of him. Minhyun starts dozing off at one point and Seongwoo rolls out a futon next to Seonho, gently setting Minhyun’s head down and adjusting his position until it is something of comfort. Minhyun doesn’t wake up during any of this.

The room is small. The table where the calligraphy ink was made is crammed in the corner. The two futons take up most of the space. So Seongwoo takes to the door frame: crosses his legs, settles down, leans his head against the wooden framed sliding doors, and watches over the other two. His chest feels warm once more.

 

 

 

“You’re going to get a crick in your neck at this rate,” says a voice so familiar that is accompanied by a nudge to Seongwoo’s thigh. On reflex, he reaches for neck and winces when he pulls away from the door. Someone had draped a winter robe over him and Seongwoo doubts it’s the one who had rudely waken him up. ( The least he could do for Seongwoo was tuck him in, right? )

Seongwoo glares before realizing its Seonho and his face immediately gives way to a smile. He spreads his arms for extra measure.

“Don’t expect me to give you a hug,” the boy says, falling into Seongwoo’s embrace and returning it. In his defense, Seongwoo had pulled him into it and living with Minhyun had conditioned him.

“Thank you,” Seonho says into Seongwoo’s shoulder, softly. Seongwoo almost finds this endearing until Seonho speaks up again with: “didn’t you have an appointment today?”

The buzz of his phone reminds him. He has 6 missed calls and 23 new texts from Jisung. Seongwoo groans.

He ruffles Seonho’s hair once before sprinting off, giving the boy a grin as he does so.

The irritated face Seonho makes disappears when Seongwoo is out the door, turning fond. Minhyun smiles from a distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes:
> 
>   * Aron's two servants are modeled after Maru and Moro, if anyone was curious. I'm also terrible with naming they literally mean 蝴蝶.
>   * A _samhyeon_ is an instrument derived from the Chinese _[sanxian](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sanxian)_.
>   * A goral is a wild goat and kind of cute.
>   * Yes, my favorite story in all of XXXHolic is the one about the samisen and the cat. I couldn't not use it but I also had to tweak it so it lost most of the elements that made it a beautiful story along the way.
> 

> 
> Once again thank you for the love and support. I promise I read every single comment. I'm just awkward and shy and sit too long on it that it is past the polite time to reply so I just... 
> 
> I take each and every one to heart. Thank you for motivating me. I would say this chapter is for you but my readers deserve something better. Maybe chapter 14.
> 
> I'm running out of cool quotes to base my chapter titles on so I turned to XXXHolic for help. The title is taken from [this](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/4e/c1/2b/4ec12b72ca62b06736d5880da420bf0c--xxxholic-quotes-insight.jpg) quote. Yuuko will forever reign supreme. Stumbling across my fic and choosing to read it is hitsuzen.


	6. The Call of the Void

The rain is relentless. The downpour hasn’t ceased since Monday. No typhoons have visited since early August. Seongwoo just wants the rain to come to an end, lethargy seeping into his bones. He’s tired of being drenched every single day: the umbrella offers minimal shelter from the onslaught and boots are uncomfortable. He has half the mind to not show up today, go home and laze around. But with a mind not paying attention to where he’s going, he ends up in front of the familiar gates again.

Seongwoo sighs and pushes it open.

 

 

 

“There you are,” Minhyun greets. He has a guest today — a girl with a complexion Seongwoo would describe as pretty if not for the utter look of contempt on her face.

“Our client,” Minhyun explains, “Jieqiong, a child of the rain.”

“A spirit?”

“She’s more powerful than that. She’s the reason it has been raining this past week.”

Jieqiong hefts the umbrella in her hand and gives Seongwoo a once over. “Didn’t think you would keep a human around,” she sniffs and Seongwoo feels the irritation of the past week itching to come to the surface.

“I’m one too,” Minhyun reminds, gently. “Besides,” he adds in the same tone, “it’s been a while since you've last visited. I doubt you are here today for a seasonal greeting.”

She turns back to face Minhyun. “I need your help.”

“The price will be equivalent to the wish; no more and no less.”

She nods. “I’m prepared.”

Minhyun smiles. “Then Seongwoo and Seonho will accompany you. Use them as you wish.”

 

 

☾ 

 

 

“Are you sure about this?” Jieqiong asks after she has sent the two off. Two blocks away is a park hosting a row of hydrangea macrophylla.

“They are capable,” Minhyun answers.

“But I heard that your attendant collapsed not too long ago. Is it okay for him to face impurities again?”

 

 

 

When Minhyun rushes out the door, forgetting an umbrella, Jieqiong sighs under her breath and follows him.

 

 

☾

 

 

They find Seonho by the hydrangea macrophylla that has grown to be about two stories high in a vibrant hue of red. The bundles of flowers are crimson towards the bottom of the plant. Seonho is shaking and Minhyun doubts it’s from the coldness of the rain.

Seonho turns to Minhyun, desperate. “My foot got caught on some hydrangeas. Then there was this mass of black and”

Seonho looks away, back towards the hydrangeas. “He shoved me out of harm’s way. Seongwoo he—”

Minhyun looks towards the rain sprite. “Escort him back for me, please.” Then to Seonho. “I’ll bring him back. I promise.”

 

 

☾

 

 

Seongwoo wakes up to pure darkness. There is nothing on all sides just pitch black. He sits up, frowning, and tries to recollect his last memories.

The _round flowers, embroidered with silk_ as his grandmother used to point out, Seongwoo disinterested, were usually of pastel shades of blue, purple, or pink. That red had been something out of the ordinary. The same with how they refused to let go of Seonho. Not to mention that black mess — tendrils not unlike that dream from a while ago.

He hears a child’s sniffles and cries and so Seongwoo walks towards the noise.

There is a weird mist that surrounds him with a stench, oddly familiar. Seongwoo covers his nose but keeps walking.

 

 

 

There’s a young child, crouching, rubbing her eyes while she cries.

“What’s wrong?” Seongwoo asks and crouches as well.

She looks at him, eyes still watering as she sniffs. “I’m scared but I have to keep going.”

Seongwoo smiles, hoping to comfort her as he pats her head. “Are you lost? Do you know how to get home?”

She clings to him, throwing her body weight into Seongwoo and says into his shirt. “It’s not home. It’s the place I have to go.”

“Where is it?” Seongwoo asks, kind as the child lets go of him.

“I know where...” she says, while rubbing an eye, “but I don’t want to go alone.”

“I’m…” she begins, the tears start once more, overflowing as she sobs, “I’m useless.”

“It’s very dark in here. It is okay to be afraid,” Seongwoo comforts. The girl stands, reaches for his hands and holds them.

“If you come with me, then, maybe I won’t be afraid.”

She tugs with the strength of a grown adult, surprising Seongwoo as he gets on his feet. He gets dragged along.

“Thankfully, you came,” she says while walking, turning back to look at him. The tears continue to cascade down but she seems calmer than before. “I was so lonely, and I kept crying… but he tried to stop me… told me to quiet down… but I was so lonely!”

Seongwoo’s puzzled. “Who was trying to stop you? Who told you to quiet down?” he inquires.

“He’s always here,” she sniffles as she looks ahead, bringing his hand closer with both of her hands. They are so small that his still eclipses them both. “Because I came after him, he thinks I’m a bother.”

“But…” she stills for a moment, looking down, “it’s not like I wanted to come here.”

“Who?” Seongwoo asks, a chill down a spine, “you said he’s always here… who?”

The stench only gets stronger, mist thickening, and Seongwoo stops as the girl excitedly yells _over here!_

She tightens her hold on his hand. “What’s wrong?”

Something foreboding once more. Seongwoo stands firm. “I think it’s best if we don’t go there.”

She clings onto his arm. “Let’s go together!” she cries, “even though you said we shouldn’t, I’m too scared to go alone!”

 

 

_you_

_can’t_

 

 

A voice says from all around them.

 

 

 

_you                 bring                   there_

_can               someone                with_

_not                   else                    you_

 

 

 

“No!” the girl shouts back at the voice. “I’m going with him!”

The voices are as gentle as rain drops, coming from above. Seongwoo looks up.

 

 

 

_please                   child                   please_

_bring                      with                    bring_

_that                      you                     her_

 

 

 

Seongwoo’s beyond confused. “But you just said I couldn’t bring her?”

The child shouts over Seongwoo. “Let’s go!”

Seongwoo gets dragged and the mist thickens enough to cover their feet.

 

 

 

 **_no_ ** _**don’t**                   way_

_!                      go                      …_

_that                  please!_

 

 

 

“Am I disturbing you because I’m always underneath?” The child shouts as she looks above. “Do you want me to leave?”

Seongwoo’s brows knit. “Underneath?”

The child closes her eyes and shakes her head furiously while tightening her grip on Seongwoo. “It’s not like I wanted to come here myself! I didn’t stay here because I wanted to!”

 

 

 

_i          you          the          please!           do          over          if          not          the          do **turn**_

_have        can          other                            not           to           she      come      bright       not **back**_

_said **not**           side                            let          the          goes     back        side         let               _

_it           go                                              her        other         she        to                         her_

_…          to                                              go          side          can        …                        go_

 

 

 

The mist thickens around the child as she pulls harder, screaming once more: “It’s not like I wanted to come myself! I didn’t stay here because I wanted to!”

Seongwoo’s brows knit. The scent of the child is familiar as well.

The girl points in the direction of the heavy mist, calming down a little as she says: “on that side I know many people, but I still feel lonely.”

She looks up at Seongwoo, pleading. “Even though there are many people, I still feel lonely.”

The puzzle pieces fall into place. Seongwoo crouches down, concerned as he talks to the child.

“I think it is better not to go on that side.”

The child breaks out into sobs once again. “Then where should we go?”

The splash of water droplets against ground makes Seongwoo look up. A sash seems to float down, not unlike the one usually tied around Minhyun’s waist.

Seongwoo reaches out to grab it, tugging it once for extra measure, and finds that it holds. “Let’s go this way,” he says while holding the girl’s hand.

“I don’t want to go up,” she says, wiping her tears.

“Why?”

“Because I’m very dirty.” The tears fall at a frequent pace as she rapidly tries to wipe them away. “And different from before. Everybody will say that I am gross.”

“No way!” Seongwoo protests, refusing to let go of the string and the hand.

“Liar!” she yells, furiously rubbing, “they are going to say that!”

Seongwoo looks down at the child with an affectionate smile. “I won’t say that for sure.”

She looks up at him.

“Let’s go,” he says, tugging on the string and allowing himself to be lifted. The child comes along.

 

 

 

The rain is relentless. Seongwoo is drenched in seconds. The rain drips from the petals of the flowers and lands onto his face, sinking through the layers of clothes. The sky is dark.

Seongwoo sits up and reaches over where his hand is still under the crimson hydrangeas. He smiles, eyes affectionate.

“I don’t think it’s gross,” he says to the skeletal hand in his own. “You’ve always been alone here…” he gives it a squeeze, “I’m very proud of you.”

 

 

 

Seongwoo notices the sash around his hand and turns around to see a Minhyun, drenched in rain, holding the other end. Seongwoo flashes him a smile of gratitude and passes out.

 

 

☾

 

 

Minhyun catches him, pressing his palm to Seongwoo’s forehead, before allowing a smile to surface on his face.

He collapses not long after that as well, after Seongwoo has been brought back to the shop, after he’s dried and tucked away to sleep.

 

 

☾

 

 

“The child…” Seongwoo starts, toweling his hair dry as he walks into Minhyun’s room. Minhyun sits up, groggy from sleep. Seongwoo can’t fight a smile when he remembers the details Seonho had given him out of guilt.

( “You were gone for ten hours,” Seonho relays, teeth fretting at his lower lip. “Minhyun stood there, guarding, with a sash in hand waiting for you to emerge.”

“I didn’t know I was gone that long. It just felt like minutes.”

“Time runs differently. So anyway,” the boy says, running a hand through his hair, “he passed out from exhaustion not long after he got you back here safely.”

“You better thank him,” Seonho shoots him a look before apologizing.

Seongwoo reaches out to ruffle his hair again and this time Seonho lets him. )

“She matches one of the children reported missing from last year,” Minhyun says, trying to blink away the sleep.

“And the place?” Seongwoo asks after sitting himself down, cross legged, across from Minhyun and his bed head. There’s an urge to reach out and smooth it for him but Seonho would probably have his hands for that gesture so he keeps them to himself.

“Between here and there, this end and that end. Between the world of the living and the world of the dead. Between the dreaming and the awake.” Minhyun looks at Seongwoo and he realizes why the scent was familiar.

“But,” Minhyun adds, “the place she wanted to bring you to was where the evil ones are concentrated. Those who were murdered, suffered, and forced to die. That’s where their spirits are located at.”

“Why did she want to go there?”

“She was lonely,” Minhyun says, staring straight at Seongwoo, “she wanted to bring you as well.”

Seongwoo frowns, deep in thought.

“You would have died.” Seongwoo thinks he’s hearing things when he hears a tremble at the very end of the sentence. Minhyun closes his eyes. “It wasn’t her intention but at the end of the day that’s what it comes down to: the sin of the dead is the same as the sin of the living.”

Wings, dreams, and the very first visit come to mind.

“And the hydrangeas?” Seongwoo voices, thinking about the chorus of voices, “were they there to stop her?”

Minhyun nods, lips curling into a smile as if he’s finally realized how much Seongwoo has caught on. Seongwoo would have returned it if there wasn’t something else on his mind.

He looks straight at Minhyun and says: “thank you for saving me.”

The smile grows fond. Something tugs at Seongwoo’s heart.

Minhyun looks towards the courtyard where the rain sprite has approached. “Perhaps she’ll have peace with a proper burial, after returning to her family, and head to the proper realm.”

Seongwoo nods in agreement.

 

 

☾

 

 

Jieqiong is still sporting the same umbrella and the same look of disdain on her face. “You’re alive and well,” she remarks, “I suppose a thank you is due.”

Seongwoo shakes his head. “No. It’s thanks to you that the girl was also able to—”

“I didn’t ask you to help to help her,” she snaps, “I wanted you to help the hydrangeas. They are spiritual plants. The key element in controlling the rain but it had turned red because of that child underneath.”

The look on her face is cold as she delivers the next sentence: “the human beings aren’t helping us. Why should we help the human beings?”

Seongwoo shuts up. Minhyun places a hand on his shoulder before approaching the rain sprite.

“I’ll send you the price in a few days,” Jieqiong says.

Minhyun offers her a courteous smile. “I’ll be expecting it. Until next time, Jieqiong.”

“I suppose,” is all she says but there’s a smile dancing on her lips as she gives him a wave and dissolves like water.

 

 

☾

 

 

“Seonho...” Seongwoo starts, fidgeting, “that time at the mansion he—” Seongwoo closes his eyes and swallows, lost as to how to make sense of this.“He had a scent, faintly similar to that child as I carried him back here.”

The sadness in Minhyun's eyes affirms his suspicions. Minhyun forces his lips into a smile. “I promised I would tell you, didn't I?”

“Three years ago...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the cliff hanger. I wish I could say, with confidence, that it's the last of its kind but I honestly don't know.
> 
> I tried my best to stay away from reading the manga as I wrote this fic but this chapter was a headache to write (probably a headache to read; hint: vertical for hydrangeas) so I cheated. 99% of the middle scenes are word for word.
> 
> Thank you for the comments?? You guys are the sweetest and the reason why this chapter is done already. If you ever read/finish XXXHolic come scream at me @dulcetfairytale on twitter. I can also give you more supernatural manga recs.


	7. Stop Carrying the Remains of Who We Once Were

“They say there’s a place that can grant requests, no matter how ridiculous. Is it here?” a woman asks. Doubt, suspicion held in her posture, her shoulders, tense as if she’s ready to leave at a moment’s notice. But her eyes, hoping for a miracle, give her away.

“It depends on the request. It depends on the price.”

The woman looks at Minhyun, studies him for a moment before saying: “I never expected the shop keeper to be so young.”

“No matter how ridiculous,” Minhyun echoes, smile wry.

She tenses, eyes hardening. Minhyun looks on, apathetic.

“Please…” her voice quavers, “if this is the place… my son…”

The wounds of loss remain raw; scabs picked clean, no matter how much time has passed.

“I can’t promise anything until I see him,” Minhyun allows, surprising his attendant.

“That’s all I’m asking for.”

 

 

 

Minhyun doesn’t know what to expect until they arrive at the hospital. There’s a cacophony of noise, accompanied by sirens, humans trapped in misery. None of his business. He follows the woman who has turned anxious the moment she stepped through the automatic glass doors. It doesn’t get quiet til the elevator ride, crammed in the corner, a bed taking up half of the space as people pile in, unwilling to take the next lift. The patient and the hospital staff in charge of wheeling the bed judges him blatantly. Minhyun looks forward. His outfit isn’t contemporary but it also isn’t anyone’s business.

The elevator stops at nearly every floor. At least some people get off, with the occasional shuffle of maneuvering around a hospital bed.

The floor they get off at is quiet. They pass the nurse station; idle enough to be chatting, seconds before they arrive. Minhyun’s lips curl the moment they approach and the nurses go dead silent. The woman pays them no attention and charges forward.

The room is at the end of the hall. Silent spare for the faint whir of machines and the consistent beep of a monitor. The woman opens the door with bated breath, concern deep in her eyes as she turns to face Minhyun, pressing a finger against her lips. Minhyun’s tempted to roll his eyes but doesn’t.

There’s a boy sitting on the chair facing the bed. He stares blankly before turning at the sound of people entering and looks at Minhyun. He’s young. Fifteen or so, judging by his boyish looks. There’s surprise in the boy’s eyes.

“My son was in an accident two years ago and he’s been like this…” the woman trails off, turning to look at Minhyun. “Where are you looking at?”

Minhyun nods once to the boy before turning in the direction of the boy’s mother. In the hospital bed lays the boy’s corporeal body.

“The doctors say it’s possible he won’t ever wake up again.” Her voice breaks and she looks away. Minhyun walks towards the head before facing the soul in the chair. The boy just smiles, mirthless.

Minhyun inspects the body and looks up at the mother. “They’re right. He won’t. There’s nothing I can do for you.”

A cry: one part grief, one part agony, and one part desolation makes it way out of the mother’s lips before rage takes it place. “Get out,” she says with a voice of steel.

Minhyun doesn’t need to be told a second time. He slows when he reaches the boy in the chair, leaning forward to say _come find me_ before leaving the room. The woman breaks down after the door closes, inconsolable as she begs her son to come back to her. He doesn’t need to see to know that the boy is probably trying to comfort his mother, not that she will ever know.

 

 

 

The boy arrives not long after, presence signified by how Minhyun’s attendant narrows his eyes at the door and chastises Minhyun for bringing something home.

Minhyun ignores him, for the most part. Something in the boy had prompted an invitation. Something that reminds him of that night of butterflies, tendrils, and darkness.

 

 

 

“My name is Yoo Seonho,” the boy says after taking in every inch of the room and ends up kneeling across from Minhyun. “I can’t stay long,” he says with a sheepish grin, “I can’t enter my body but I also can’t leave it for too long. I weaken, start to fade, and my vital signs start to border death.” He offers a laugh as he recalls: “it’s not pleasant to get electrocuted with pads and forcefully transported back.”

“How long has it been?”

“A year and a half ago since I was forced out of the body. No amount of reentering and trying to rouse it to consciousness works. I can’t die. I can’t live. I can only watch as my parents mourn.” He clenches his fists. “I…”

Minhyun smiles, voice soft as he asks: “what were you before this? Who was Yoo Seonho before this?”

 

 

☾

 

 

The sun is blinding, so Seonho brings an arm to shield his eyes. The rustle of the leaves is calming. The wind is gentle, cool enough to keep his skin from feeling irritated by the sun’s rays. His stomach is full, position comfortable, so he just allows himself to give into the temptation of an afternoon nap.

The door to the roof bursts open. He can hear his teammates’ laughter as they spill in and Seonho groans internally.

“Yah Seonho,” says one of them that Seonho identifies as the voice as his best friend, “aren’t you afraid of throwing up on the court after all that food?”

Seonho elevates his arm just a bit to look at his friends who have found their seats around him. His friend nudges his knee, unrelenting, and gestures at the empty bags that used to contain bread around him.

Seonho sits up, makes a face as he collects them into one corner so that his friend can sit.

“I mean,” his friend says through a mouthful of bread, “if our dear captain throws up on the court and loses face, vote for me as the next captain. I promise I won’t be eating five breads and downing two cartons of milk.”

Seonho scowls and elbows his friend in the stomach. He deserved the coughing fit induced by such an action.

“I was allowing myself to digest before you came in,” Seonho defends then looks at his friend and grimaces at the messy eating, “looking at your face gives me indigestion.”

The protest that follows draws out a chorus of laughter from the basketball team. Seonho joins them.

 

 

 

There’s nothing more liberating than being on the court. Dribbling has always brought Seonho peace but it’s different on a court against a different team. Here, it helps him focus, helps him put the court in perspective. Teammates try to throw those tracking them off. Some run around as pure distractions, dodging in and out of the key, sometimes getting close to the net. Seonho waits. Stares into the eyes of the one guarding him, unblinkingly, and passes the moment his teammate makes it towards the net. He has faith and they had a lot of practice. They still cheer anyway when they score.

“That’s our captain!” his friend hollers, thumping him on the back. A gaggle of girls screech and Seonho ignores them, beaming.

Team play is always the best. Sure, it’s exhilarating charging down the entire length of the court after a ball is rebounded by a teammate. There are no guards to get in the way. Maybe one or two that try but they get outmaneuvered. Followed by an easy layup. ( One day he’ll get to dunking. ) The crowd goes wild then as you throw them a cocky grin and your teammates just roll their eyes. But team play is rewarding. All the hours spent on the analyzing the best formation, the best defense, the best offense. All the hours where the team is divided into two and you learn to play with each other, note each player’s weakness and strengths. All the hours collapsing into a pile on the floor after your coach pushes you to the max or the jokes in the locker room as everyone tries to shower first. All of the hours with a result to prove that the time was not wasted; two points are added, red numbers on the wall.

Assisting has provided Seonho with the most accomplishment. Probably why everyone had nominated him at the end of last year.

 

 

 

The quiet thud, thud of the basketball against the polished floor. The world narrows to just him, the ball, and the net ahead. His friends and opponents are ready; held by a bated breath as Seonho plants his feet, crouches, and shoots. He makes both baskets in. His teammate mutters _show off_ with a face filled with pride. Seonho thwacks him for extra measure.

 

 

 

Seonho doesn’t make the last basket. He never does. But he had passed it to his friend who did. The boy is just shouting at the top of his lungs, dramatic and overboard as he is with all things, telling his team to bring it in for a team hug. Seonho rolls his eyes as he gets dragged into the thick of it, begrudgingly allowing himself to lean into the embrace.

 

 

 

He’s proud. Has every right to be with a medal around his neck and the trophy in his hand as they pose for a photo. Days of a competition where each day ended with exhaustion: everyone binging during dinner then falling asleep soon after that. They had spent all of daytime either competing or observing games and opponents of interest, coming up with plans. Or in the breaks, promised to keep playing as a team even in high school.

His friend always gives him grief, revealing his first school of choice to the team who calls him a traitor ( but wish him luck regardless of where they end up ). _Don’t be strangers when you become famous_ one of them says, faking tears. _Sign my jersey right now before you pretend you never knew me in the first place_. To which another’s reply is _that’s school property_ and everyone gets on their feet when they realize it’s the coach’s.

And Seonho, filled with affection, just laughs and promises _I’ll sign your forehead instead._

 

 

 

He’s on his way home, flowers in hand for his mother, when he crosses the street, white man flashing. He sniffs at them, grinning.

An awful screech fills the atmosphere.

 

 

 

When Seonho wakes up, the date on the clock is all wrong. How is it possible? He’s missed his high school exams. Missed the entrance ceremony. Missed graduation.

Denial.

Anger.

Bargaining.

Depression.

Acceptance.

His friends visit less frequently, caught up in their high school lives, leaving only his family to visit. They grow more desolate with each day. None of them seeing Seonho let alone feel his touch.

Until the boy with a robe draped over his shoulders appear and stares straight at him.

 

 

☾

 

 

“You said to my mother,” Seonho stares straight at Minhyun, “ _there’s nothing I can do for you_.”

“Indeed,” Minhyun agrees, taking a sip of the tea that has become tepid. “But there’s something I can do for _you_.” Minhyun sets down the tea cup before gesturing at the door. “No soul can enter here without a wish they want granted. What is yours?”

Seonho looks at his hands. Swallows and licks his lips. “I want purgatory to end. For my body to die.”

 _Let me rest_  rings in Minhyun’s ears. “And your parents?”

“They,” Seonho starts, voice thick with emotion, “I can’t do this to them anymore. I’m a burden. Each day I lie there is a bill. It adds up.”

He quiets.

“They don’t need a physical reminder. That thing can’t ever be their son or brother again.”

The eyes of the boy are resolute as if he’s made up his mind a long time ago, tried to end all of this, only to face walls each time. And yet Minhyun…

“Is that what you truly want?”

Seonho’s laugh is bitter. “What other options are there? Of course if I could live I would. But you’ve seen the state my body is in. I want to play basketball again, go out with my friends again, eat my mother’s cooking again, complain about my day to my father again, and annoy my brothers again. But I can’t. It’s not possible. There’s nothing you could do for my mother, which means that all you can do for me is to release me from this state of in between.”

Minhyun lets Seonho try to collect himself for a bit before he speaks. “There’s one other option. It isn’t quite living but you’ll be able to see them again. Your body will die but I’ll bind your soul to this realm for as long as there is blood in my veins. You can watch them grow.”

“While I stay stagnant?”

“Yes.”

Seonho closes his eyes. Minhyun looks at the courtyard and the wind rustling the leaves of the tree, blowing the fallen ones around, disturbing the birds who have perched upon trees. The sun is setting, casting a golden glow upon the earth, dyeing the clouds in a beautiful palette. Minhyun doesn’t need to read minds to know what Seonho is thinking of.

When he opens his eyes, they are unwavering. “I don’t have a place to stay.”

“You can be my attendant here. I need someone who can help me with lost souls, convince them to leave for the brighter side or return to their bodies.”

“I would like that,” the boy says, sincere. “The price?”

“The death of your body.”

Seonho smiles, almost laughs but nods instead.

 

 

☾

 

 

There’s an adjustment period for all events. All things considered, it goes pretty well. Seonho settles into routine pretty quickly under the other attendant’s tutelage.

( Minhyun won’t forget how Seonho stood, teary eyed, as he watched his family members conduct his own funeral. But when he turned around and faced Minhyun,  there was a look of gratitude on his face. Minhyun’s never met anyone with more courage. )

“You’re smiling more,” the attendant notes one day.

“Am I?” Is Minhyun’s reply as he hides his curved lips behind the porcelain cup.

 

 

☾

 

 

Later, much later, when the abode is only occupied by two souls, Minhyun asks: “why do you never refer to me by my name?”

Seonho just smiles and says: “your name is too precious to be uttered by the likes of me.”

“I may be your employer but I am also your friend, Seonho.”

When Seonho finally does, cheeks tinted in the prettiest shade of pink, Minhyun laughs from the bottom of his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back at it with fancy chapter titles. Taken from my favorite poet (Richard Siken comes after) Tyler Knott Gregson:
> 
> “Oh what we could be  
> if we stopped  
> carrying the remains  
> of who we were.”
> 
> Which is, in retrospect, one of the hidden themes in this fic.
> 
> Seonho's past has been conceived from the start, building up to this point, which probably reads anticlimactically but he's the entire reason I'm writing this fic. Thank him. And, if you can't tell, he's my favorite character in this entire series. Also a favorite to write for.
> 
> Like always, time passes between one scene and another. Some with more time than others. Seonho's basketball journey is one of them.
> 
> Once again, thank you for all the love and support. One last short chapter before my favorite arc in XXXHolic appears.


	8. Idleness, Sorrow, a Friend, and a Foe

“I’m not powerful enough,” Minhyun confesses, “despite my promise. Places where darkness concentrates, where impurities linger, where evil gathers… his soul will waver.”

Seongwoo reaches for him then and Minhyun lets him; a warm hand over his own.

“Thank you,” Minhyun manages after a while. Seongwoo knows what he means so he gives Minhyun a small smile and pats his hand twice.

 

 

☾

 

 

Questions still swirl in Seongwoo’s mind. He didn’t want to press further, not after seeing the expression on Minhyun’s and Seonho’s face. Instead, he ties the blue balloon to his bed and hopes to meet Aron again.

 

 

☾ 

 

 

The storefront looks desolate compared to the others on the same street. Some windows are boarded up to obscure the interior from view, a large taped x in one window, and various FOR RENT signs with a phone number scribbled underneath. Seongwoo wonders if he’s in the right place. And, if so, why was he outside of a shop to begin with?

 Seongwoo pushes the door open, greeted by an ugly _clonk_ over head.

The interior is vastly different from what was suggested from the outside. Warm lights, fully furnished, but minimalistic in concept. Seongwoo inspects the wooden back of the chairs, dragging his fingers across polished wood, and surveys the place.

Who Seongwoo assumes is the attendant looks at him oddly from the back of the store. He seems familiar but Seongwoo can’t remember where he’s seen this man before.

“Dong —” the man calls when another appears, clad in a white cotton shirt, the edge of his tattoo peaking from the border of its neck line.

“I heard,” the second one answers, toweling his hair dry while taking a glance at Seongwoo. “And I suppose you are Ong Seongwoo?”

Seongwoo can’t help but wonder how many people know his name.

 

 

 

“Have you found what you are looking for?” the man asks after a brief introduction that consisted of _you can call me Dongho_ and asking his attendant to find something for Seongwoo to drink. To which Seongwoo had kindly declined but still ended up with a glass of water anyway. Dongho looks at him intently as if trying to dismantle Seongwoo and piece him back together, huffing out a puff of smoke from an ancient looking pipe.

Straight forward, Seongwoo appreciates that and wishes he had an answer as clean as the question was. But he doesn’t. There’s an inkling, tangled with a mess of sentiments, something he can barely string into words. So he swallows and shakes his head.

“And what are you going to do after your wish gets granted?” Dongho presses further. There’s an edge to his voice beneath the tone of boredom. “Choose wisely. Usually those who have their wishes fulfilled can’t return to the shop because there are no wishes left to grant. A desire satisfied.”

Seongwoo frowns. He didn’t come here to be forced into a hasty decision, to be hurried along the way. And maybe, just maybe, where Dongho’s coming from, he has a point. Seongwoo doesn’t care and it probably shows when he says: “then I’ll stay.”

Dongho laughs, cruel. “On what basis? There’s more to our world than a few rogue _gwisin_ s. Darker creatures, embodying harm, catastrophe. What can you do for him? Besides be a burden for him?” His tone is flat and Seongwoo knows he’s just stating facts. There’s nothing he can say in return. His fists shake yet he can’t even meet Dongho in the eye.

The tirade continues: “What do you even know about Minhyun? Did you know that the five of us are the weakest in our clans, expendable, thrown out to become apprentices in an age where everyone has given up finding a successor for our master. She had rejected taking in a successor for centuries, for fear that politics would ruin the guardian's neutrality, and we were given the  _honor_  of being chosen.” He scoffs, sarcasm heavy.“They thought we wouldn’t. Thought we would perish or give up. Never to return home because of the shame that would shroud us for all our lives.” He pauses, maybe to let nostalgia catch up. “That’s how we bonded. The five of us, under the warmth of our Master who decided to make us _all_ her successors.”

He doesn’t. Doesn’t know any of this because Minhyun rarely talks about himself. Part of him wants to retort if any of this matters ( the other part of him tells him that it does. It will. )

“So let me ask you again,” Dongho says, voice impassive, losing its former edge, “what do you know about Minhyun? His sense of responsibility is probably second to that of our leader, like how he took in Seonho and the one before him. What’s to say you aren’t the same?”

Seongwoo doesn’t know where this defiance comes from when he shoots what is hopefully a withering look in Dongho’s direction. The words all die on his tongue because Dongho is probably right. It doesn’t matter. He can learn. There’s no point in arguing so he doesn’t and snaps himself out of this dream.

 

 

☾

 

 

The blue balloon lies in pieces, scattered across the floor from where it popped. Seongwoo cleans them up, teeth clenched.

 

 

☾ 

 

 

“I don’t remember serving you anything spicy tonight,” his attendant remarks, amusement in his tone.

“I hate the kind of indecisiveness that drags everyone down with it,” Dongho says, stiffly, after taking another draw from his pipe.

“I didn’t peg you to be the jealous type,” his attendant teases, a wicked smile marring his face and Dongho just groans.

“Shut _up_ , Sungwoon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled with this chapter because Dongho... I love Dongho but I also needed plot device so I decided to settle on straight forward protective Dongho. I'm so sorry if I ruined him in my hands. I need to start a tally of all the sins I've committed in this fic.
> 
> Chapter title taken from [this quote](https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/128166-inventory-four-be-the-things-i-am-wiser-to-know).
> 
> Buckle up, dear readers, the next two chapters are a ride.


	9. 以眼還眼《上》Vacant Heart, Hand, and Eye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am apologetic for many things but this is not one of them.

“I was surprised when you said you wanted to come over,” Jisung greets as he opens his door, letting Seongwoo into his house, “even more so when you said you wanted to see my grandfather’s books. You do know that our theology class ended a semester ago, right?”

Seongwoo enters, grateful, and takes off his shoes by the door. He shrugs, hopefully nonchalant as he says: “I developed an interest. The lecturer made it captivating.”

Jisung narrows his eyes. “Sure,” he says, unconvinced.

“Hey!” a girl says, storming in before freezing in her tracks when she sees Seongwoo. Jisung presses his fingers against her forehead to move her aside, which brings her back to the moment. She grinds her heel into Jisung’s foot in response, voice hushed as she hisses: “why didn’t you tell me you were bringing a handsome friend home!”

Seongwoo grins. Jisung frowns as he brushes her aside, leads Seongwoo into the house, and introduces briefly: “my sister, Seulgi.”

“I think I like her more than you already,” Seongwoo smiles kindly at Jisung’s sister.

“No, no, no, and no,” Jisung mutters turning to Seulgi. “Don’t inflate his ego,” with a jab in Seongwoo’s direction. He then turns to Seongwoo and says: “don’t you dare flirt with her, I haven’t approved of you yet. Besides, after a few interactions you’ll clearly see that I’m the superior Yoon in this household.”

So Seongwoo lets himself get steered away, waving politely at Seulgi as the girl protests quietly.

 

 

 

They spend three hours in mutual silence as Jisung scratches his head over case studies and Seongwoo tries to decipher the text. There’s nothing really new, nothing he hasn’t already heard before. The usual origin stories of the goblin, tales of gumihos, haunted stories as gwisins mess with humans. Folklore. Seongwoo doubts the world Minhyun is involved in is this simple.

“Is this all?” Seongwoo asks, eventually, when Jisung has looked up from his textbooks and decided to take a break.

“No. I grabbed the first few I could find.” Jisung runs a hand through his hair. “My dad keeps all of grandpa’s books in the storage. He doesn’t believe in religion, thinks all of it is a hoax, doesn’t matter if grandpa was a monk of the Taego Order or not.” Jisung makes a gesture with his hand. “Probably would’ve thrown all of his stuff out if grandpa wasn’t still alive and mother thinks it would be a bad omen to throw religious texts away.”

“But,” Jisung adds after stretching and catching the expression on Seongwoo’s face, “we can dig up some more if you would like.”

“Please,” Seongwoo says.

“Sure. I needed a break anyway,” Jisung shrugs, leaving his tomes of law behind without batting an eye.

 

 

 

Seongwoo coughs when sliding open the storage room door, waving away the dust from his face before noting: “what a statement this makes.”

“Told you so,” Jisung says

Seongwoo makes a noise when he finds his hand caught in a web and Jisung gets rid of it unblinkingly, freeing Seongwoo’s hand. Seongwoo whistles under his breath.

“Aren’t you manly,” Seongwoo coos, “whoever ends up as your significant other lucked out.”

Jisung deadpans. “If you are complimenting me to weasel your way out of returning this favor then try harder. You still owe me a meal after this.”

Seongwoo laughs, patting Jisung’s shoulder blade gently as he continues to allow Jisung to thwart insects for him. “Cash in anytime.”

“Meat and soju,” Jisung adds as they make their way to the darkest corner of the storage room. “Korean beef.”

“Have you considered becoming a loan shark instead of a prosecutor?”

“On second thought…” Jisung teases before getting distracted by what they were looking for with a loud _aha!_

They spend most of the afternoon lugging the books to Jisung’s room, cleaning out the storage while they are at it. Seongwoo’s filled with the sense of déjà vu as he airs them out but forgets as soon as he allows himself to be absorbed back into the world of black ink and fine print.

 

 

☾

 

 

Seongwoo drops his bag into the empty seat next to Jisung and frowns when Jisung barely reacts until he hears the telltale thump of a bag against chair.

Jisung turns to greet Seongwoo, left eye shut. “A stye, I think,” Jisung explains pointing at the eye. Seongwoo thinks it is a trick of the light when he sees a faint outline of a web over it.

“When did it start?”

“Overnight I think.”

Seongwoo frowns, thinking about the destroyed web in that dingy storage space.

 

 

☾

 

 

“Say…” Seongwoo starts, not sure where to begin or even phrase this. It could be a trick of the eye but it could be something else and his instincts tell him it isn’t as simple as a stye. “Is it possible for an eye to be sealed shut after destroying a spider web?”

Seonho’s snort tells him all he needs to know but Seongwoo ignores that, opting to wait for Minhyun’s answer.

“Perhaps,” Minhyun says, pensive, “why?”

“My friend… yesterday we were cleaning out an old storage and he cleared a web. When I saw him today, his eye was shut and there was something that vaguely looked like a spider web over it.”

“Normally, in that situation, no.” But Minhyun brows are knit. “Was there something else to it?”

Seongwoo swallows. “Well… my hand was caught in it and my friend destroyed it for me.” Refusing to mention the part where he made noises short of heroic. He half expected Seonho to tease him or laugh but the boy is silent. When Seongwoo turns around to look at the boy, Seonho’s face is pale.

“Then his eye is cursed as retribution for destroying a home,” Minhyun says, voice impassive but there is something in his eyes that almost resemble fear.

“What can I do about it?”

“Nothing,” it comes out harsher than Minhyun had intended. Then he amends after seeing the surprise in Seongwoo’s face: “there’s only that age old solution. The one that describes vengeance but is also used as a transfer of a curse.”

“An eye for an eye,” Seongwoo remarks under his breath before turning to Minhyun. “Help me, please.”

Minhyun recoils. “No.” It comes out hushed, barely audible.

“Please,” Seongwoo insists. “It’s my fault. I selfishly demanded to go into that storage and got my hand stuck in the web in the first place. I begged him to show me the books and the scrolls that recorded this world — your world. None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for me,” Seongwoo rambles. “The one with his eye sealed shut should have been _me_.”

“No,” Minhyun repeats again, shaking his head.

“ _Minhyun_ ,” Seongwoo pleads, “this is a shop that grants wishes and this is my wish.”

But at this point Minhyun has turned distant. If Seongwoo hadn’t been paying attention, if the house wasn’t so quiet, he might never have picked up the _don’t ask this of me_.

“Seonho,” Minhyun says with the voice of steel, “see him out.”

“Minhyun,” Seongwoo tries one last time, “he’s my friend.”

It falls on deaf ears. Minhyun turns away. Seonho closes the doors on him with a crestfallen face, mouthing an apology. No amount of pounding opens the doors.

Seongwoo walks away.

 

 

☾ 

 

 

“Minhyun,” Seonho tries, dropping formalities, concern seeping through his tone, “are you sure about this?”

Minhyun says nothing. Seonho watches how his hands clench into fists and decides to leave him alone.

The moon is absent tonight.

 

 

☾

 

 

“A visitor, a visitor,” 나나 sings, poking her head out from behind the door. “Hurry,” she says to 비, “go grab Master.”

“A visitor, a visitor,” 비 croaks, hand gently tugging at Aron’s pant leg who frowns slightly when he sees Seongwoo.

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” he remarks, voice gentle as he welcomes Seongwoo in.

 

 

  

Seongwoo tells Aron everything, bitterness unable to be swallowed as it rears its ugly head towards the end.

Aron listens quietly, with intent, brows knitting and a frown marring his handsome face. By the end of it, when Seongwoo finishes and takes a sip of tea that 비 has served, Aron finally asks: “what do you want me to do?”

“Grant my wish,” Seongwoo says, determined.

“You do know that if I do this, there is a possibility you might not ever be able to return?” He keeps his voice steady. “Not just this place, the other shops too.”

“I know.”

Aron sighs softly. “Minhyun won’t be happy about this.”

“I’m not _his_ ,” Seongwoo nearly hisses. “It’s my fault to begin with ; my price to pay.”

“As you wish.” Is all the shop keeper says before covering Seongwoo’s left eye with his hand.

 

 

☾

 

 

For a split second, when Seongwoo turns around, all he sees is an empty lot where the house used to be.

 

 

☾

 

 

“Hey!” Jisung greets but Seongwoo walks on, oblivious, before Jisung catches up to his friend and pats him on the shoulder. The closer distance reveals the buds plugged into each ear and the patch over an eye.

Seongwoo smiles, taking an earbud out as he surveys Jisung. “You’re all better.”

“Yeah,” Jisung makes a face as he inspects the eyepatch, “What happened to you?”

“What version of the story do you like better: me getting into a fight to defend my love’s honor or me tripping and falling?” Seongwoo asks, grinning. Something about it is unnatural, forced almost but Jisung decides not to point it out.

“Did you really need to me to answer that?” Jisung retorts, bumping Seongwoo’s shoulder with his.

 

 

☾

 

 

It takes a while to get adjusted to only having one eye. Seongwoo knows he should really give it more time because it has only been three days, but it’s hard not to get annoyed when he accidentally burns his hand against the lip of a pot to his left side. There’s a headache that sets in after he rinses his hand in the water. His right eye sees running water washing over the inflamed part of his hand. His left eye sees something entirely different.

A street. Unknown. There’s a pole in front of him and suddenly it’s gone. 

 

 

 

It isn’t the first time.

 

 

 

His right eye always depicts something in front of him. His left eye always depicts somewhere else.

 

 

 

The second time was a field of grass, seemingly endless, with a carpet of stars overhead.

 

 

 

The third time was dark. Red. Like if the pits of hell actually existed.

 

 

☾

 

 

He walks to Aron’s place, half expecting nothing to be there. Anxiety nearly swallows him whole so he jogs, then sprints into a run.

By the time he gets there, out of breath, he’s clutching his knees. For a moment it’s an overgrown lot where weeds run rampant, iron barbs acting as fences. He blinks and everything restores back to normal.

Aron welcomes him in without a word, sullen. The two assistants flock him. He almost walks into 나나.

“I think I’m seeing things,” Seongwoo explains, breathless, knowing he sounds insane. “Wasn’t my eye taken? Sometimes I still see things through it.”

“It’s being transported.” Is all Aron says, voice calm as he watches Seongwoo’s shoulders sag. “If there was a way to get it back I would tell you,” he adds, gently as he takes Seongwoo’s temperature with the palm of his hand, brushing the bangs away.

Seongwoo chuckles and shakes his head.  “I—”

Aron shakes his head. “You don’t have to say anything to me. I understand.” He lets go of Seongwoo, giving him a firm pat on the shoulders. “But at least stay the night. It’s far too late for you to venture out,” he adds and Seongwoo nods, following the lead of the two attendants as they get his room ready.

 

 

 

Aron walks over to a bowl of water. An earth colored basin, rough to the touch, with a single lotus floating upon the water. “You heard what I said,” Aron begins as he peers into it, his reflection replaced by that of a friend’s. “You still have a chance to get it back, Minhyun.”

The man reflected says nothing, just tips his head in appreciation before the ripples end the connection.

Aron sighs into the night.

 

 

☾

 

 

The fumes are toxic, heat searing, and the entire place smells like sulfur and something more sinister. Minhyun is glad for the sleeve of his robe as he covers the lower part of his face, muttering spells under his breath to keep his air purified. He tries not to use too much. Overexertion would mean death in a place like this.

He hears the cackles from far away.

“ _Oh my_. I didn’t expect Minhyun to come here himself.” A voice taunts in the distance.

Minhyun scowls and continues trekking.

 

 

 

It’s only been a few years since Minhyun last saw him. The few years of isolation had turned him for the worse. The most powerful son of the spider queen had seen better days. His eyes were blood shot, some of his legs have been through a particularly brutal fight. But his hair is slicked back in the way that still suggested regality and the pride in his eyes are unmistakable. The twinkle or glint, depending on the angle his eyes catch the light, seems to hint at amusement or derangement. There’s a sneer marring his face. When he laughs, it grates on Minhyun’s ears, furthering affirming his identity.

Sungwoon had once mocked how it sounded evil, like the laugh witches or a demon would have.

 _Jealous much?_ Jaehwan had retorted and laughed louder as retaliation.

“How long has it been,” the spider prince greets, lounging in his web like a throne, “5 years? 3? How’s Sungwoon doing?”

“Good,” Minhyun almost spits, “no thanks to you.”

Jaehwan clicks his tongue twice, shaking a finger, drawing the attention to the orb in his hand. “And it is that attitude that landed you here.”

Minhyun clenches his fist. “Give it back.”

“But you see,” Jaehwan begins wickedly, “it is the price to pay for destroying my follower’s home. What would you give in exchange?” He laughs, watching Minhyun’s face closely, enjoying the tension held in shoulders. “It’s powerful; you already seem to know that. An eye from an individual with the ability to purify. You don’t come across this often. Almost never, in fact.”

He drops down. Minhyun wishes he would just drop into the crevice below where he’s certain even the most vile creatures can’t survive. But Jaehwan’s web holds as he hangs, face too close for comfort. “You could return Sungwoon to me,” Jaehwan suggests, voice soft, “and your dear boy can have his eye back.”

Minhyun narrows his eyes. “No. Sungwoon isn’t a _thing_ to be given away at will.”

“You gave him to that white tiger!” Jaehwan accuses, voice shrill.

“Because you forced him to flee,” Minhyun spits back. “Trailed him, caused him misfortune, tried to stop him from the path he wanted to follow. And he chose to become Dongho's attendant, himself.”

“He was better off with _me_.”

Minhyun shakes his head, allowing his expression to turn cruel. “No. He was better off without _you_. You’re the one that needed him.”

“Don’t act like a saint. Don’t preach at me as if you stand on some moral high ground when the only reason you took him in was because your master had attendants and you just wanted to become like her.”

Minhyun closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, ignoring the noxious fumes.

 

 

☾

 

 

Sungwoon stands before him, drenched by the pouring rain, uttering a _please_ and Minhyun’s frigid heart felt nothing in that moment. He's heard of creatures who wanted to reach a higher level of existence but hadn't imagined that they still existed. He thought of the two attendants, created by a spell so powerful it would require all five of them to cast, soulless vessels that Aron had renamed, wiping away their memories so that sorrow didn’t plague them like it plagued the five. And said _fine_.

They laughed later, of course, over juice and soju about how the meeting was fitting for someone named Sungwoon and the sparrow spirit had recounted a tale, eyes filled with longing. How happiness never lasts.

 

 

 

( “You're not disgusted by me?” the boy asks, wiggling his legs, each of them coated with coarse, black hair.

Sungwoon shrugs. “Why should I be? Who you are, what you do, defines you more than what you look like.”

Jaehwan clambers up and Sungwoon scoots over to make space for him on the ledge of the cliff. A perfect vantage point for the setting sun over the canyon.

Jaehwan laughs, Sungwoon makes a face before bursting into laughter himself; in harmony. )

 

 

 

Paths diverged. Sungwoon wanted something else and Jaehwan didn't trust humans as far as he could throw them. When it was just the the two of them, they couldn’t be touched. But Seonho could. The second time they nearly lost Seonho ( the time Minhyun had nearly pushed himself to the brink of death to bring Seonho back ; the time Sungwoon spent two weeks to nurse Minhyun back to health while keeping an eye on Seonho ) the sparrow decided enough was enough.

Minhyun gave him an alternative option: to continue his path with someone else. Sungwoon agreed.

 

 

☾

 

 

Minhyun opens his eyes. “You know, there was a point where he thought about returning to you. Or hoped you would join him until he saw you for what you were” He makes one last attempt: “— a monster.”

He half expects a howl but Jaehwan remains unphased.  “I know. Don’t we all live in regret,” Jaehwan says before bringing the orb to his lips.

“I want you to remember this,” he says against the shell of Minhyun’s ears, “remember the pain and that sensation of powerlessness to protect the one you love.”

He swallows it, tugs on his end of the web, and disappears into the depths of the cavern.

Bile rises in Minhyun’s throat. He bends over and throws his stomach out.

 

 

☾

 

 

Seongwoo sees lips and his eyes go dark. He tells Aron who gives him a look so filled with sorrow that Seongwoo has to look away.

He buries himself in the borrowed blanket and hopes the dreams will take him to a kinder world.

 

 

☾

 

 

Seongwoo’s convinced that he’s dreaming because Minhyun is here, sitting at the foot of his covers, offering a sad smile in Seongwoo’s direction that Seongwoo can’t help but return. His robes are a bit tattered but it doesn’t make him any less attractive. There’s something round and glowing in his hand. A pearl, Seongwoo thinks, or maybe a yeouiju that he has read about in Jisung’s grandpa’s books.

Seongwoo sits up.

Minhyun looks at his own hands before looking into Seongwoo eyes and asks, voice soft: “if you could get your sight back, would you?”

“Who would say no?” Seongwoo confesses as Minhyun looks back down at the object in his hand.

When he looks up again there’s a smile two parts fond. He picks up the orb and presses it against Seongwoo’s lips.

It dissolves.

 

 

☾

 

 

“Are you sure about this?” Aron asks after Minhyun slides the door close, accidentally leaving a gap from having to adjust to a sudden decrease of vision in one eye. Aron closes the gap for Minhyun, steadying his friend as the dizziness sets in.

Minhyun offers a smile but Aron is unconvinced.

“Thank you,” Minhyun says, “for granting my wish.”

 

 

☾

 

 

Seongwoo wakes up, startled. The trace of Minhyun’s fingers still lingers on his lips.

The patch had fallen off half way into the night, lying uselessly on Seongwoo’s blanket and yet, somehow, there isn’t just darkness in his left eye. He can barely make out the outline of objects but he can see… after he clearly felt his eye pass through a stomach and saw the endless darkness.

He scrambles out of bed and nearly runs Aron over, searching for answers.

 

 

☾

 

 

Seongwoo barges in through the gates before Seonho can do anything about it. He storms up to Minhyun and grabs him by the collar.

“What the hell, Minhyun,” Seongwoo nearly spits, rage personified. Minhyun is clearly taken aback.

“No one asked you to share your left eye with me.”

“It’s no—”

“It’s not _nothing_ , Minhyun,” Seongwoo snaps, cutting Minhyun off. “An eye isn’t _nothing_.”

He searches Minhyun’s face for an explanation, for _anything_ , but it remains the same as always: impassive.

“Right. Right. You’re never going to tell me anything,” Seongwoo laughs, releasing his grip on Minhyun, shaking his head. “Dongho was right. It isn’t _nothing_ but it also isn’t _something_ either. I’m just another someone you are responsible for. You would do the exact same thing for him, for Aron, for Seonho, for the other two.”

“But you wouldn’t do it for Jisung when I begged.” He glares at Minhyun accusingly. “I wonder why.”

Seongwoo takes a step back and takes a look at the courtyard he has spent nearly a year or more in, as if surveying for one last time before meeting Minhyun’s eyes once more. “Sometimes I wonder if you are stuck here, trying to realize your own desire as well. I hope you find what you are looking for.”

Seongwoo turns and leaves ( but not before slowing when he reaches Seonho and tells him _take care of yourself, my friend_ ).

Minhyun watches until the doors swing shut, expression tight.

Seonho turns towards his master but Minhyun turns away, retiring to his room for the rest of the day.

 

 

☾

 

 

The winter winds are particularly brutal this year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
>   * The [Taego Order](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taego_Order) is the 2nd largest Buddhist order in Korea and has both celibate & married monks.
>   * The canyon referred to can be found [here](http://english.visitkorea.or.kr/enu/ATR/SI_EN_3_1_1_1.jsp?cid=2040594)
>   * [Yeouiju](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Korean_dragon) is a dragon's orb. There are many myths ranging from how it turns a semi-dragon to a full fledged dragon. It's the stuff of fantasy dramas: the glowing pearl looking thing. What would ancient people think if they saw our LED ice cubes nowadays?
> 

> 
> So yeah... two fics in a day to make up for that three day(?) weekend.
> 
> I rescind that statement in the beginning. I am terribly sorry. Subtlety is hard to be woven in, even more so when you want to withhold revelations. I don't know how you guys stick with me and continue to read this mess. I love you all?
> 
> On the bright side, I promise, it will only go uphill from here.
> 
> P.S. To avoid this chapter I wrote the fluff ficlet. Now you know why.


	10. 以眼還眼《下》Easy Live and Quiet Die

Life, more or less, resumes some semblance of normality. Seongwoo goes directly home after his last class and studies for exams that are months away.

Life, more or less, resumes some semblance of normality ; Seongwoo reverts to his old self.

 

 

☾

 

 

Jisung finds his grandfather’s texts, neatly stacked into a box, on his doorstep one Saturday morning. There’s a simple note that reads:  _Thanks. I owe you one_. Jisung plucks it off and frowns. No human has the capacity to read this many books over the span over a week.

He makes a mental note to question Seongwoo about it, but it slips his mind when life catches up and drowns him in its pace.

 

 

☾

 

 

Even when night falls, Minhyun’s breakfast remains outside his door — untouched.

 

 

☾

 

 

It’s the same earbuds _I’m deaf to the world_ getup Seongwoo is sporting when Jisung throws an arm across shoulders. He no longer has an eyepatch but he seems to be missing something. Jisung’s brow knits slightly, in worry, but decides not to mention it.

“What does your afternoon look like?” Jisung asks, pushing forward as Seongwoo stumbles into his pace.

Seongwoo narrows his eyes. “Why?”

Jisung shrugs. “Me and a group of friends are going to a noraebang to celebrate finishing a project for our evil professor. Well, more like I’m celebrating. They just want an excuse to sing their hearts out at the expense of our poor ears. As your friend, I’m obligated to make sure you don’t waste your youth away.”

Seongwoo makes a face, tone teasing as he says: “sounds like it’ll add ten years to my life.”

“So you’re in?” Jisung replies, without skipping a beat.

“Only because you insisted.”

“No. This isn’t a substitution for the meal you still owe me,” Jisung reminds.

Seongwoo starts laughing and Jisung smiles at that.

 

 

 

There’s an upbeat song being sung to — more like hollered to at the top of their lungs — and bodies flail, trying to pass it off as a dance. Jisung, watches, amused as he sings along despite not having a microphone.

Seongwoo seems to do something similar. It’s been like this the entire night. Polite, cordial, distant as he greeted and exchanged pleasantries with Jisung’s friends. He had laughed along lamely told jokes and smiled, but neither of them seemed to reach his eyes.

It was as if he was going through the motions of life, living up to what was expected of him as a fellow human being, and left it at that.

It’s unsettling. Jisung makes a note of it. He’s dragged into singing soon after.

 

 

☾

 

 

Minhyun’s sitting, facing the courtyard. He doesn’t see Seonho in front of him.

Seonho speaks, hoping for anything. But Minhyun stopped listening.

 

 

☾

 

 

Seongwoo sees Seonho standing before him from his left eye. His right still shows him the ceiling of his room.

Nostalgia overpowers him.

Seongwoo runs to the bathroom. He grips the toilet bowl and heaves himself dry. His knuckles turn white.

 

 

 ☾

 

 

“Seriously?” Jisung asks, hand on his hip, glaring at Seongwoo. “You could have just told me you weren’t feeling up for it, not blow me off with a lame excuse of being busy today and going directly home.”

Seongwoo blinks, speechless. Pointing at the door before pointing at Jisung. “You followed me home?”

Jisung crosses his arms, defensive. “You’re acting weird lately. I’m worried.”

Seongwoo gives him a smile and shakes his head. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” He turns towards the door, reaches for his key to unlock it.

Jisung grabs Seongwoo by the elbow. “Yes, you do. Lately, it seems like you are just living for the sake of living, waiting for the days to pass by.” He studies Seongwoo’s face that has turned impassive. But the corners of his lips are turned down slightly, giving him away.

Seongwoo’s lips twist, cruel as he laughs. “Where have I heard that before?”

Jisung huffs, letting go of Seongwoo and runs a hand through his hair, exasperated. “It’s fine if you don’t want to talk to me about it but I’m your friend.”

“I know,” Seongwoo says, finally, after a while. He smiles, almost genuine this time. “Thank you.”

Jisung leaves it at that.

 

 

☾

 

 

“Sungwoon hyung stopped by the other day,” Seonho reports, sprawled on Minki’s floor, “he said Minhyun’s behaving like when they first met. When she first passed away.”

Minki frowns. “How long has it been?”

“Two months? Maybe a bit more,” Seonho mutters as he toys with the lose thread between his fingers.

“He’s just alive, without living.” The boy adds, almost inaudible.

Minki sighs, resting his cheek against his arm. “And the boy?”

Seonho shrugs. “I haven’t seen him since.”

But Minki has known him for as long as Minhyun had so he reaches over and gives Seonho a small pat on the head. “Our poor Seonho-ie suffering the most. Hang in there, kid.”

Seonho makes a face. “You’re not that much older than me.”

Minki returns it with a shit eating grin. “But it made all the difference.”

 

 

☾

 

 

Jisung blackmailed Seongwoo. Or rather, he used that _you owe me a meal_ card to drag Seongwoo out for dinner. So here they are, huddled over the barbeque plate, attempting to warm themselves at this street side vendor whose only protection against winter winds are the barely presentable vinyl plastic weather curtains. Seongwoo mutters bitterly, while trying to warm himself up. Jisung’s face is full of accusations at their predicament as if it was Seongwoo’s idea to choose this place. ( It’s not. Seongwoo hopes the glare he shoots is withering. )

Jisung orders soju and pours a large glass for Seongwoo. He would’ve been grateful if he hadn’t remembered how he was paying for all this tonight.

 

 

 

Their stomachs are full and chests warm from liquor when Jisung decides to bring it up again.

“So did you really read through all my grandpa’s books in a week?”

Seongwoo swallows. “So about that…”

“No?”

“No.” Seongwoo echoes, unable to meet Jisung’s eyes.

“What did you want them for?” Jisung asks, pouring another glass for Seongwoo.

Seongwoo shrugs. “I thought maybe I wanted to study theology or folklore.” He knocks back the glass and chases it down with another slice of meat. “I’m not so sure anymore,” Seongwoo confesses.

Jisung shrugs. “I didn’t know until my second year. You still have time to figure it out.”

“I suppose…” Seongwoo allows before falling silent.

It takes another two glasses and 10 slices of meat before he speaks up again.

“I just applied to university because that was what everyone else was doing — what was expected of me,” Seongwoo confesses. “Didn’t have any idea about what else to do so.” Seongwoo shrugs and nurses his next drink. “Thought I did,” he says, swirling the liquid around in the glass, staring at it as if it would reveal some mystery. “Thought I did, which is why…” he trails off, gestures with his hand, and laughs bitterly before allowing his head to fall onto his arm. Hand still holding his glass as he swirls it some more.

“I thought I had finally…” Seongwoo says. His voice nearly cracks and Jisung pretends not to hear it as he scoots closer, patting his friend on his back.

It takes a while. Jisung had thought Seongwoo had dozed off when he says as an afterthought: “… in the end…”

Seongwoo looks so defeated that Jisung hushes him, tells Seongwoo that he doesn’t have to talk and continues to provide comfort through pats.

 

 

 

Jisung hauls Seongwoo home that night, pays for the cab fee, adds it to the growing tab that Seongwoo owes him and wonders if there is anything he could do to help. He doubts he can. So instead he buys haejang-guk, puts it in the fridge with bottles of water, and leaves a set of instructions for microwaving and self care before he leaves.

 

 

☾

 

 

There’s a familiar figure next to the streetlight. Seongwoo squints to try to figure out the identity but the individual’s back is facing him. The person stares in the direction of Seongwoo’s place and Seongwoo doubts that the person is here for him.

He’s wrong.

Seongwoo walks past and sees the profile of a kid too familiar. “Seonho?” as if asking makes it any different.

Seonho’s stares at him, unphased. “Took you long enough.”

“Did you just…?” Seongwoo points at where Seonho stands and his apartment. “How long have you been waiting?”

“Long enough to see the sun set.”

Seongwoo whistles under his breath. “Missed me?”

Seonho grimaces. “In your dreams,” he mutters as he follows Seongwoo to his place.

The small smile on his face answers Seongwoo's question, which leaves a grin on Seongwoo's face.

“Then what are you here for?” Seongwoo asks as they near his door.

“Minhyun… he’s—” Seonho starts but Seongwoo cuts him off.

“Did Minhyun tell you to come here?”

Seonho’s expression turns sheepish as he shakes his head. “I just thought—”

It’s cold. Snow still falling. Seonho is dressed simply in a tshirt and jeans so Seongwoo slips off his scarf and ties it around Seonho’s neck.

“You’ll catch a cold,” Seongwoo notes.

“I don’t catch colds,” Seonho grumbles under his breath, irritated at being cut off. Seongwoo laughs, nose red, remembering.

“Right,” he notes before unlocking his door and inviting Seonho in. Seonho refuses with a shake of his head.

“Come back please,” Seonho pleads, “Minhyun’s—”

Seongwoo shakes his head, firm. “I can’t. Not this time.” Seongwoo offers a smile as he reaches out to ruffle Seonho’s hair.

“Come in if you want. It’s too late and the roads aren’t safe to head back.” He takes off his shoes and turns around to make Seonho do the same when he realizes the boy isn’t there anymore.

He closes the door and let’s himself slump against it. He was right. Dongho was right. He’s making the right choice. But no amount of persuasion would convince his heart ; the ache as strong as before.

 

 

☾

 

 

“When Seonho said you were wallowing I couldn’t believe it,” Minki says upon throwing Minhyun’s doors open. The place is even more pristine than usual, a tell-tale sign of cleaning as means to distract himself. Minki clicks his tongue.

Minhyun glares in the direction of Seonho who has taken to hiding behind Minki’s frame, betrayed. It doesn’t do much but it’s better than nothing at all.

“Don’t blame him,” Minki waves, “all things considered, he became collateral damage. You should be the one apologizing.”

Minhyun stares at his hands as a reply.

 

 

 

“Did you know that Seonho went to find him?” Minki asks, ratting Seonho out as the boy protests. Something about how he should have never trusted Minki in the first place.

“No,” Minhyun says, staring at Seonho accusingly.

“What were you hoping for?” Minki asks, after allowing the information seep in. Minhyun stays silent. “Why did you take him in? Why did you go to the entrance of the underworld to retrieve an eye?” Minki prompts, pressing forward.

Minhyun’s fists tighten. “It doesn’t matter anymore, does it?”

“Is that so?” Minki asks, unconvinced, and raises the cup to his lips as he savors a sip of the liquor held within. Minhyun doesn’t answer. Minki takes it as an opportunity to continue. “What if he never returns?”

Something flashes through Minhyun’s eyes. As if it was possible for a man to look more defeated, Minhyun’s shoulders seem to sag. “I can’t force…” he trails off.

Minki hums, resting his chin on the back of his hand as he stares at Minhyun. “But that’s not the issue is it?” He pauses before adding: “When you’ve done so much to protect someone, in hopes that they will stay… what’s stopping you now?”

He waits.

Minhyun laughs, voice brittle, shaking his head before dropping it into his hands.

“I’m still the same as I was five years ago,” Minhyun says.

“No,” Minki replies, reaching out to place a comforting hand on Minhyun’s back. “You’ve grown up while we weren’t watching.”

Minhyun looks up then, lips twisted into a semblance of a smirk. “Since when did our maknae grow up to become so wise?” he teases.

“Wisdom doesn’t come with age,” Minki retorts, sagely.

“Try telling that to our clan elders,” Minhyun says, laughing. Minki joins him.

 

 

☾

 

 

“It’s almost the New Year, according to the lunar calendar,” Seonho notes.

Minhyun nods.

“It’s the time for new beginnings, isn’t it?” Seonho continues.

Minhyun pats Seonho’s head and answers him with an “I know.”

 

 

☾

 

 

“No, Jisung, you didn’t leave your scarf here—” Seongwoo says upon opening the door only to fall silent when he sees the man in front of him.

“Hello,” Minhyun greets, polite as always. He looks like he’s been through Aron’s closet, robe nowhere to be found.

Seongwoo blinks, wondering if he’s seeing things until Minhyun clears his throat. “May I come in?”

His heart lurches against his will. His throat goes dry at the expression on Minhyun’s face.

“Yeah, yeah. Of course,” he opens the door wider as an invitation. Lets it swing shut after Minhyun as the he takes off his shoes. Seongwoo runs his hand through his hair, regretting his lazing in on the weekend pajamas.

 

 

 

“Tea?” Seongwoo asks without expecting a reply. Minhyun surveys his apartment after Seongwoo had quickly explained how he had moved out of his parent’s place after starting university. It’s small. The dining table is an offshoot, adjacent to the kitchen where Seongwoo is currently preparing tea. There’s a cozy living room area and then a small hall that branches off into a bedroom and a bathroom.

Minhyun nods as a means of replying.

“Chamomile? Green tea?” Seongwoo asks despite unwrapping the green tea bag.

“Green tea,” Minhyun answers, observing the lack of personal items that Jisung had often complained about.

 

 

 

( “You look like you are about to move out at any time,” Jisung notes, frowning as he tries to find even a single framed photo in this household.

“I am.” )

 

 

 

Seongwoo gestures for Minhyun to sit, so he does without a word, across from Seongwoo in a dining chair. Seongwoo slides the mug in Minhyun’s direction who thanks him silently.

Silence blankets them.

Seongwoo decides to wait and takes a sip of tea.

 

 

 

“You are right,” Minhyun says finally, setting his tea cup down, using a finger to silence the motion. “An eye isn’t nothing.”

When Minhyun looks up at him, Seongwoo can almost feel his heart preparing to make its way out of his chest.

Seongwoo wants to pretend the look in Minhyun’s eye is fondness ( wants a lot of things, actually ) but doesn’t. He can’t get ahead of himself, not again.

“It was my fault,” Minhyun says without looking away, “I took something precious from him so he wanted to take something precious from me in return.”

The words seep their way into Seongwoo slowly and he prays his face doesn’t give away how hot he feels. “Him?” he asks, trying — but failing — to focus on something else.

Minhyun smiles. The soft and gentle one Seongwoo hasn’t seen in months. “A powerful curse turned a girl into the first spider. He is the strongest of her offspring.”

“Oh,” Seongwoo sounds.

The silence stretches. Not that Seongwoo notices between the poundings of his ears.

It takes Minhyun a while to gather himself before he speaks again.

“I’m still that kid you saw in the dream, still afraid to lose what is important to me,” he confesses in a way that makes Seongwoo want to cover that hand with his own but refrains. “But in the process of doing so, I still lost it,” Minhyun puts on a smile, the one where his eyes are eclipsed. But even with his eyes obscured, Seongwoo can tell that it doesn’t reach his eyes.

Minhyun looks at Seongwoo then and adds: “I still lost you.”

Seongwoo wants to deny it, but doesn’t. He schools his face and with the most leveled voice he can manage and asks: “so… what do you want?”

“If you can find it in you, to forgive me,” Minhyun says, voice uncertain, hesitating over every syllable, drawing it out, “I want you to come back.”

Seongwoo can’t keep his grin from breaking out on his face. “Are you going to pay me this time?” he asks, teasingly.

“Maybe…” Minhyun allows, laughter in his voice.

Seongwoo’s chest expands and smiles at a chuckling Minhyun.

 

 

 

“If it’s possible…” Seongwoo starts, fidgeting as he escorts Minhyun to the door, “I want to learn about your world — from you.”

Minhyun smiles, hand covering Seongwoo’s that is propping open the door. “Of course,” he says without skipping a beat. Then adds: “don’t be late.”

Seongwoo salutes him with a _yes sir_ , smartly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter treated you well.
> 
> We are finally past the halfway point. Thank you, once again, for reading and following along.
> 
> The chapter titles from 9 & 10 are taken from [this](http://www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.uk/poetry/poems/lucy-ashtons-song). It isn't very fitting in context but it just sounded nice and fitted the theme of the stolen eye.
> 
> Please take a listen to yayyoung's [do you feel like you have no one to turn to?](https://soundcloud.com/yayyoungkim/brave). It saved me this week.


	11. Record of a Night Too Brief

The lecturer drones on about _The Cloud Dream of the Nine_ and it’s significant background and place in Korean literature. Seongwoo’s on the verge of dozing off and tries to rub the sleep from his eyes, working on the right one when he sees the rain sprite walk up to him from his left side. But instead of the look of contempt he’s gotten used to, it’s a kinder one.

He’s back in the classroom when his professor calls on him.

 

 

☾

 

 

For a moment Jieqiong disappears from sight.

Minhyun’s right eye shows him a vast lecture hall with spotty attendance and a professor — judging from his age and attire — writing on the board.

It’s not the first time this has happened. He sighs, closes eyes, and doesn’t open them until a few moments later.

Jieqiong clears her throat. Minhyun smiles, apologetic.

“It’s not polite to accept payment and never use it,” she mentions, lips pursing.

“I know. But it’s not for me,” Minhyun replies.

 

 

☾

 

 

Seongwoo arrives, out of breath, with the brightest grin on his face. Not a second late. He’s greeted with two expectant smiles.

 

 

 

“You can serve him tea again,” Minhyun mentions as he helps Seonho in the kitchen, crafting a light snack as Seonho steeps tea.

Seonho looks at him confused.

“There’s no point anymore,” Minhyun says before gesturing at his eye. “If I’m not wrong, by sharing this eye it accelerated his awakening. Rather than suppression, helping him develop his abilities might be the wiser option.”

Seonho nods, adding a third cup to the tray.

 

 

 

When Seonho serves Seongwoo a cup of tea, he leans in close enough that words said under his breath are audible. “It’s good to have you back,” Seonho says and nearly regrets it when he catches the smile on Seongwoo’s face as if he’s won the lottery.

 

 

 

Minhyun places a tube in front of Seongwoo. It’s beautiful. The length of his arm, an intricate pattern carved into the metal, gilded with gold. Seongwoo looks at it, puzzled.

“The payment for last time with the hydrangeas,” Minhyun explains. “It’s yours.”

“You also…” Seongwoo starts and stops when Minhyun shakes his head.

“You deserve it,” Minhyun says with an encouraging smile. Seongwoo reaches out, carefully lifting the tube and inspecting it.

“Open it,” Seonho butts in, curiosity in his eyes.

Seongwoo does as he’s told, carefully twisting one side. It pops loose. Something slithers out and Seongwoo nearly reels in shock. At least Seonho enjoyed it at his expense, laughing loud enough to startle the creature. It crawls to Seongwoo’s neck and wraps itself around like a scarf.

It takes a while for Seongwoo to calm down and inspect the thing around his neck. It’s pure white, furry, but snake like in appearance. It seems to take a liking to him and nuzzles Seongwoo’s cheek. Seongwoo looks at Minhyun for answers.

“A pipe fox,” Minhyun answers. “It seems to like you.”

Seongwoo takes another look at the creature. The only aspects that are fox-like are the two little stubby ears a bit above two black dots. It’s cute in appearance if it wasn’t tightening around his neck in excitement. Seongwoo pats it twice on its back, in defeat. The pipe fox seems to understand. It loosens its grip and chooses to curl around Seongwoo’s wrist instead, nuzzling into his palm.

When Seongwoo looks up, Minhyun’s still smiling — eyes fond.

“Should I name it?” Seongwoo asks, uncertain.

“If you want to,” Minhyun nods.

Seonho interjects with: “choose wisely. Don’t make it sound stupid.”

“Glad to know you have so much faith in me,” Seongwoo retorts, index finger petting the pipe fox’s head, who seems to enjoy it. “At least someone here loves me,” he mutters under his breath, ignoring how Minhyun chuckles into the robe of his sleeve and that eye roll Seonho provides with a huff.

 

 

☾

 

 

“How lovely,” someone comments from behind them, tone light and teasing.

Seongwoo turns around to find someone unfamiliar, grinning at him. His hair is short, dyed in a shade of brown, with a golden rope tied serving as a hair band. There’s an intricate knot at one side that gives way to two tassels that dangle near his ear. His face isn’t half bad but the hair accessory makes him seem softer somehow.

“Minki,” Minhyun introduces, “and—”

“Seongwoo,” Minki finishes with a wave of his hand, “everyone knows by now.” Seongwoo doesn’t know why he’s feeling that tinge of red at the tips of Minhyun’s ears.

“Anyway,” Minki continues as he seats himself, “I would like to make a request.” He shoots Seonho a glare that sends him scrambling to the kitchen, probably in search of another cup for tea. Minki places a ground cherry on the table. He touches it once more and it begins to glow. “Some call it Demon’s light,” Minki explains when Seongwoo’s face lights up, “it’s a plant that has been used as lanterns in the past, and it’ll guide you where you need to go.”

Minki is looking at Minhyun then, who frowns.

“Consider it a consultation fee,” Minki says, offering a shit eating grin while he’s at it.

Minhyun sighs under his breath.

“You will have to wait for the—”

“Moon,” Minhyun finishes, “I know.”

He seems to struggle with something, an internal debate of sorts, until he turns to Seongwoo. “Would you like to join me?”

Seongwoo points at the lantern. “This?”

“A procession,” Minhyun explains, “where all the creatures that lurk in the night parade.” He then pauses before adding: “you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just promised to…”

“Yeah,” Seongwoo sounds, voice almost cracking. “Yeah. I would love that.”

Minhyun offers a smile, relieved.

 

 

☾

 

 

A full moon hangs overhead. The great full moon, Seongwoo notes as he gently goads the pipe fox into Seonho’s lap, making a promise that he’ll be back. It seems to cry but Seonho pats it gently, whispering into its ear until it calms down. Seongwoo’s pleased he trusted the right individual with his new friend.

“Hurry,” Minki calls and Seongwoo rushes over to where he and Minhyun are standing. The lantern gives off an orange glow in the night, illuminating the figures.

Minhyun holds the lantern by its stem; Minki gestures for Seongwoo to do the same.

“Only the person holding the ghost lantern will be able to see and join it, so you’ll have to hold the lantern together — just like the way a bride and groom cut their wedding cake together,” Minki says clapping his hands together. Seonho gawks in the background. Minhyun rolls his eyes and kicks a pebble in the direction of Minki who dodges. Seongwoo can’t meet anyone in the eye.

Tentatively, Seongwoo places his hand over Minhyun’s. Minki grins at them both and says: “Remember, you can’t let go.”

 _I wasn’t planning to_ comes out so quiet Seongwoo believes it was merely his thought, unspoken.  ( That is, until Seongwoo sees how Minki’s grin grows wider and how Minhyun’s face looks redder in the light. )

The lantern’s glow intensifies and blinds them for a moment.

 

 

 

When Seongwoo comes to, they are elsewhere.

It’s dark; nearly pitch black if not for the parade in front of him. Creatures of all shapes and sizes travelling in one direction. There’s a bull walking on his hind legs, the height of two stories. A snake that is the towering size of 5 stories slithers along with a small mouse riding its tail. There’s a flying fish, swimming in the air. A well dressed horse in a business suit also walking on his hind legs. There’s an owl the size of Seongwoo, a crane gracefully walking in her fur coat, two foxes wearing skirts that giggle into each other's ear, a small raccoon scurries along, and a cat on all fours that makes its way pass them.

“A ghost procession,” Minhyun explains, “once a year spirits and ghosts all gather for this parade.”

“Where are they going?” Seongwoo asks.

Minhyun smiles and says: “you’ll find out when we get there.” Then adds: “hurry or we’ll get left behind.”

 

 

 

They are in the midst of the procession, ghosts and spirits flanking them on all sides, venturing through darkness where their lanterns illuminate the way. There are wisps that sparkle, hanging low in the air or near feet, akin to the Milky Way. It’s beautiful. A different kind of darkness from the one beneath the hydrangeas. There’s no stench in the air, nothing that makes the hairs on the nape of Seongwoo’s neck stand up.

Up ahead stands a majestic looking tree that seems to extend endlessly into the sky, filling the atmosphere with its sweet smelling presence. All flowers are in full bloom, glowing of their own volition.

He lets it slip. Remarking the beauty out loud.

“I’m glad you like it,” Minhyun says. When Seongwoo looks over, Minhyun is smiling. It looks different in the glow of their ghost lantern, features somehow softer. Seongwoo forgets about the beauty on all sides in that moment.

Which is why it is definitely his fault when he gets bumped into. Seongwoo stumbles as the spirit behind him growls _watch where you are going_.

He uses both hands to catch himself. It incites a collective gasp.

 _There are humans_.

They say. Seongwoo can’t tell one from another. They echo each other, repeating the same thing over and over again.

_There are humans._

It changes.

_Why do they have such an exceptional ghost lantern?_

The animosity that wasn’t there before surrounds Seongwoo, suffocating him. Minhyun reaches out and grabs him by the elbow, steadying him before urging him to hold the lantern once more. He’s tenser than Seongwoo has ever seen: back straight, lips set, eyes fierce, attempting to make himself larger than he is.

_More importantly, how shall we deal with these humans?_

They ask, judging the two.

**_Why don’t we eat them?_ **

Then there are squabbles about one being from the shop. _But what of the other?_ That Minhyun silences with a: “he’s a good man. He saved a spirit from evil and saved another.”

They start up again. About how the word of a human has no weight. How can anyone know he’s not just saying this to protect his own kind? Humans are pathological liars after all.

“Wait!” a voice yells, familiar. This time the spirits listen as they part way for a small fox that makes his way through.

“Don’t eat him!” he yells once more. Seongwoo thinks he’s heard this voice before, somewhere. “He gave me a dream balloon as payment for a mere oden, the largest and brightest the dream collector had.” The paws are clenched as he turns to face the spirits, looking at them in defiance. “Which means he probably had a fragment. Pure of heart.”

The spirits begin to nod, muttering children don’t lie.

“He gave it to me,” the little fox continues, “not expecting anything in return.”

 

 

 

_Fine._

 

 

 

A voice rings throughout the procession, gentle as the caress of a flower petal.

 

 

 

_I will give some to the human child as well._

 

 

 

Seongwoo looks puzzled so Minhyun nudges him. He looks up at the tree.

 

 

 

 _Bring your lantern here_.

 

 

 

Seongwoo does as he’s told; hand still over Minhyun’s. Carefully, they maneuver the lantern to a bright flower, still holding the lantern between them as liquid flows into it. The scent wafts. Seongwoo looks at Minhyun and mouths _wine?_ His answer comes with the small smile and the pleased expression.

 

 

 

_This is Manna that only the spirits who join the ghost procession receive once a year._

 

 

 

Seongwoo looks at Minhyun but it seems as if the tree was only speaking to Seongwoo.

 

 

 

_Please drink it sparingly. Thanks to this little fox, you got a share as well._

 

 

 

Seongwoo turns to the fox, bends down and takes its paws into his hands. The hand is tiny and stirs a memory.

“Woojin?”

The fox grins, bright. “You can see me this time!”

Seongwoo laughs, shaking his hands. “I can. Thank you for today.”

Woojin shakes his head. “I’m glad,” he expresses.

 

 

 

_Child with the unique aura._

 

 

 

Seongwoo turns around to look at the tree, his hand finding its place on the lantern once more.

 

 

 

_Your life so far must have caused much misery._

_However, it’s beginning to change._

_Though the change is slight._

_Please treasure it._

_Especially the transformation you went through after meeting someone._

 

 

 

Seongwoo looks in the direction of Minhyun.

 

 

☾

 

 

They are back at the courtyard of Minhyun’s place. The moon is no longer overhead. The sun has dyed the sky in hues of pink and orange.

“Was that a dream?” Seongwoo asks, looking around.

“If it was then you’ve been standing there asleep for 8 hours,” Seonho snaps. Something white darts out and attacks Seongwoo with aggressive kisses. Seongwoo lands on his butt from the impact as he tries to get his pipe fox to calm down.

Minhyun chuckles, somehow managed to keep the lantern from spilling during all the action.

 

 

☾

 

 

Minhyun hands Seongwoo the lantern before he leaves for the day.

“Tie a balloon to your bed today. The orange one. Hold the lantern while you sleep,” Minhyun instructs.

“Am I now reduced to an errand boy?” Seongwoo asks as he takes the lantern into his hands.

“You have to work your way up the hierarchy,” Seonho retorts. Minhyun smiles in agreement.

Seongwoo groans.

 

 

☾

 

 

Seongwoo takes his time before he ties the orange balloon to his bed and settles in with the lantern, trying to make sure it doesn’t spill.

He closes his eyes.

 

 

☾

 

 

“Minhyun did mention your powers growing but I hadn’t expected this,” Minki notes, crouching over Seongwoo who is currently lying down on the roof of some apartment. He takes the lantern from Seongwoo’s hand and takes a sniff, humming in delight.

At least Seongwoo assumes it is Minki. His attire is different than last night. This time his hair is longer, pulled back into a messy bun, a single silver stick with a butterfly at the very end keeping it together. It suits him in a way that wouldn’t on anyone else.

Minki blinks at him before grinning. “Most hair accessories suit longer hair. It just depends on my mood.”

It’s not much of an explanation but he doesn’t owe Seongwoo one either. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. It looks good. Not that Seongwoo was going to mention it, something within him telling Seongwoo it would be used against him.

“Powers?” Seongwoo asks instead.

“Purification,” Minki says with an absentminded wave of his hand, “navigating through the dream world and arriving safely. Probably thanks to the balloon.” Minki takes another sniff then adds: “want some?” Before he disappears down a flight of stairs and Seongwoo tries to catch up.

For a brief moment the roof space shows a mirage of a shop. Seongwoo ignores it.

 

 

 

There’s the clink of glassware in the kitchen. Seongwoo looks around, orienting himself.

Minki’s place is the highest floor of an apartment in the middle of the city. An unassuming place with no view to offer except traffic congestion and more buildings to stare at. He has reason to believe the roof space is being used without the consent of the other tenants in the same building.

Minki hums as he pours a decent share for himself, then a smaller share for Seongwoo.

 

 

  

“I was looking forward to this,” Minki remarks, pouting as his finger traces the rim of his cup, “to think I was second to last for a visitation. Did Dongho and Aron answer all your questions?” Minki tilts his head, gauging Seongwoo’s expression.

“No, I don’t think so.” Minki draws it out, lips curling as he teases, “you want to save them and ask Minhyun yourself.”

The dust of pink across cheeks and the eyes that are unable to meet Minki’s gives him away.

“Well, if you have no questions to ask then it’s my turn. I want to know about Ong Seongwoo,” Minki says, drawing out the syllables in the last two words.

Seongwoo shrugs. “There’s not much. Normal childhood. Normal circumstances. Normal life. I just took classes people told me were easy points or good professors or to satisfy requirements. Even now.” Well the class he shared with Jisung is an exception but he’s not going to disclose that.

Minki waves his hand, clearly bored. “No, no. I meant like your interest or hobbies,” his eyes glinting and adds, “your ideal type. Things like that.”

Seongwoo coughs mid-sip and is forced to put it down. He tries, to no avail, to banish the face that surfaced in his mind’s eye from his head.

Minki’s grin widens.

“Did you invite me here to conduct an interrogation,” Seongwoo accuses, instead, eyes narrowing.

Minki just laughs lightly and takes another sip. “Did Dongho scare you that much?”

Silence, it turns out, becomes Seongwoo’s best friend. Subject change is the other.

“You mentioned something about purification?”

Minki’s gaze seems to bore into Seongwoo as he tilts his head. “I can’t believe he didn’t tell you. Why do you think he enlisted you to cleanse Seonho after the visit to the mansion? Or tag along during the puppet case? Do you think seeing the pair of wings was a mere coincidence?” Minki pauses to let the weight of his words sink in. Seongwoo always had an inkling but brushed it off as something he gained from hanging out in that courtyard too much. “You repel evil. Or at least becoming more able to as your powers awaken.”

Minki states this as a matter of fact, eyes never wavering from where they hold Seongwoo’s gaze. It oddly reminds him of the dream with the woman.

“The eye,” Minki points, “has accelerated the pace. You see things you once couldn’t correct?”

Seongwoo thinks of little Woojin and nods.

“Whether or not this is a bad or good thing depends on you.”

Seongwoo looks down at his hands before confessing: “I asked him, you know? To show me the world — the way he sees it.” Then chuckles and runs a nervous hand through his hair as he admits: “I’m wording this better in front of you than in front of him.”

When Seongwoo looks up, Minki’s expression is fond, lips forming a pleased smile. Seongwoo wonders what he’s done.

“Now I can,” Seongwoo concludes, quietly, to himself, but he has an inkling Minki overheard because there’s a small chuckle that follows.

Flustered, he clears his throat, once again opting to steer the conversation to safer waters.

“Was I able to return to the shop, even after I made my wish, because of this latent ability?”

Minki shakes his head. “No. Haven’t you figured it out by now? It’s not your deepest desire.” Another nonchalant wave of his hand. Seongwoo thinks it might just be a drunken habit. “A wish, sure, to have the ability to spare someone, save them. But not what you want most.” His eyes are clear, like a pond where you can see the bottom. The coins lie there, glinting silver when the sun hits them at the right angles, but it doesn’t tell you the depth. It could be up to your ankles or over your head. Minki seems to have a guess already. Seongwoo looks away.

“And what about seeing places as they are instead of the shop clients are supposed to see?”

“Hmm.” Minki sounds, fingers tapping against his chin. “A bit of everything I suppose. The initial lack of a solidified desire and your ability work in tandem. Now, it’s probably more of the eye.”

“Then what happens,” Seongwoo asks out of curiosity, thinking about the various instances, “if you have no desire and stumble across the place?”

“You see nothing. An empty lot, a deserted store, someone’s residence. A fail safe so that the wrong people don’t see us. And balance is maintained.” Minki explains and takes another sip, sighing in delight.” But mine has an extra measure.” He smiles in a way that unnerves Seongwoo. “After all, unless you are desperate enough, who would charge into a residential apartment and make their way up all the way to the roof? What if it’s a hoax? What if you get all the way up their after trespassing on private property and there’s nothing there?”

“Why?” Seongwoo questions. “Why do you need to go to such an extent?”

Minki’s levelled gaze sends a chill down Seongwoo’s spine.

“There are no coincidences in this world. Everything that happens must happen.”

The images of the boy with wings and his friend floods back to his mind. He clenches his fist. “So you mean there’s nothing we can do? That fate dictates us? That people die or end in tragedy because it was what was written in the stars?”

“Meetings are inevitable but what you do afterwards isn’t,” Minki merely says, relaxed. “You went to the shop because that was meant to occur but you could have left at any point. Then, where would you be now?”

Seongwoo stares at his cup that remains half empty.

 

 

 

It isn’t until Minki’s “are you not having your share of manna because I can finish it for you” that Seongwoo’s attention returns to Minki. He takes a look at the lantern that is now completely devoid of liquor.

“What about Minhyun?” Seongwoo asks on instinct.

Minki brushes him off with a “he owes me. Besides, he doesn’t drink.” Minki reaches for Seongwoo’s cup. Seongwoo deflects the hand and quickly downs it, savoring its taste. He should have insisted on bringing some back regardless.

Minki watches amused. “Well maybe I shouldn’t say he _doesn't_. He will only have sips from two types of alcohol.” Minki raises his fingers to demonstrate. “Chrysanthemum wine,” Minki says, appraising Seongwoo for a second, “that I can teach you how to make if you pay the price and this.” He gives the empty lantern a light pat. “Although you’ll have to wait till next year to get your share… if you stay till next year that is.”

Seongwoo clenches his fists. “I was planning on it,” he retorts and it teases out a laugh from Minki.

Minki then looks at the window. The sky still dark. The buildings still lit as if no time has passed at all.

“Your alarm is going to sound in a few minutes,” Minki states, offering Seongwoo a smile. “Don’t be a stranger Seongwoo-ah. Drop by and visit me sometimes.”

He waves.

 

 

☾

 

 

Seongwoo jolts awake. The orange balloon lies deflated on the floor.

And true to Minki's prediction, the alarm sounds soon after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
>   * [The Cloud Dream of the Nine](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Cloud_Dream_of_the_Nine) is a 17th century Korean novel set in the Tang dynasty.
>   * [Pipefoxes](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kuda-gitsune) and [Ghost Processions](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hyakki_Yagy%C5%8D) (百鬼夜行) are elements grounded in Japanese folklore. I hate myself for adapting and using them.
>   * Minki's first appearance & hair accessory is based off of [Munechika Mikazuki](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Cfr2lPvUAAAPImH.jpg). The second one is probably one of Yuuko's various looks.
>   * The Demon's light is actually just a [Chinese lantern plant](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Physalis_alkekengi) or winter cherry depending on where you are from.
>   * The Great Full Moon refers to [Daeboreum](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daeboreum). In other cultures, lantern festivals usually fall on that day, celebrating the first full moon of the year.
>   * In describing Minki's eyes I mentioned a pond. I was referring to one of the [Oshino](https://www.japan-guide.com/e/e6915.html) ponds.
> 

> 
> The thing about making Minhyun both Yuuko and Doumeki is that I sometimes can't have both. In which, the patron & god of this fic, Minki, helped us solve.
> 
> As always, my kouhai held my hand through this entire thing, even did some of the dialogue for me. I don't deserve her, which is why this entire fic is dedicated to her.
> 
> The title is taken from [Hiromi Kawakami's book](https://japaneselit.net/tag/hebi-o-fumu/) that I have yet had the fortune to read. But upon stumbling across a quote and reading the summary, I fell in love. It's a story that expresses a similar sentiment that I wish to bring forth in this fic. I hope it does.
> 
> Where are we going from here? You may ask.  
> Honestly, I don't know. Discovery is half of the journey.


	12. Loyal to the Nightmare of My Choice

“Minki didn’t bully you too much, did he?” Minhyun asks as Seongwoo chooses to take up floor space after an afternoon of yard work. The pipefox finds a perfect napping spot on Seongwoo's chest.

His lower lip juts out. “What do you think?” And Minhyun just laughs at that.

“Did he let you have any of the manna?”

“Yeah but he said —”

Whatever Seongwoo was going to bring up is cut off by the sudden alteration of the courtyard. Marble floors of a simple cream color, a dark wooden door, a vase near the entrance sporting pink peonies. To the right is a circular sunroom with furnishing that matches the color scheme of the front door. A banister is in sight, to the left, where each step seems to be suspended in mid air.

A tall, lanky boy shoves open the front door and staggers into the shop. His wire framed glasses knocked askew as he grips the table with the peonies, the vase clatters against the glass. He pants, forehead beaded with sweat, an unnatural sheen of red across his face that almost makes him look feverish. “Please…” he says, voice trembling, “my brother…”

He barely makes the last part out before he collapses. Seongwoo catches him before he reaches the ground. There’s worry etched into Minhyun’s expression as he brushes his hand across the boy’s forehead, even more so when he holds his fingers underneath the boy’s nose. It’s weak. His body temperature is also too high.

“Get him inside.”

Seongwoo doesn’t need to be told twice.

 

 

☾

 

 

“It seems like spider venom,” Minhyun remarks as he accepts a towel Seonho has wrung dry for him.

“Spider venom?” Seongwoo echoes, “from the one that was after my eye?”

Minhyun places the towel over the client’s forehead and says: “it may or may not be him.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Seongwoo asks.

Minhyun looks at their client who’s fitful in his feverish sleep and considers for a moment before parting his lips to speak. “Seonho is going to brew a tea to help neutralize or at least restore balance to his body.” He looks at Seongwoo for a moment as if toying with an idea. “Perhaps you could help me extract it.”

“Because of purification?” Seongwoo asks, studying Minhyun’s expression.

Minhyun’s lips curl in amusement. “Minki?”

Seongwoo nods before asking: “why didn’t you tell me before hand?”

Minhyun holds Seongwoo’s gaze when he replies. “What difference would it make?”

Seongwoo doesn’t have an answer for that so he gathers the materials instead.

 

 

 

It includes the water from last time and some activated charcoal that Seongwoo has to mix into a paste before applying it to the client. It’s not where one would expect a bite to be. They had rolled up all the sleeves of the client’s extremities and came up with nothing before they saw the shallow scratch at the throat.

Minhyun’s frown deepens as they wait for the boy to wake.

 

 

 

They are in the sunroom where the client nurses his tea. The sky is a watercolor palette where colors run into each other, ink blots spreading across canvas. It casts shadows into the room. A patch of the pipefox's fur seems to have a dark orange shade. Seongwoo quietly wonders if this could stay but decides it’s not the right time to bring it up and sits still instead.

The client seems to have restored his health to some degree after that two hour nap.

“My name is Guanlin,” the boy introduces, tea cupped in his hands. He brings it to his lips for a tentative sip and seems to take a liking to it. “My brother, he…” He trails off as if unsure where to start.

“We’ve already agreed to help, so explain to us what exactly you want us to help with,” Minhyun says, tone gentle. Admiration sparks in Seongwoo. Rather than something like _take your time_ that would make any worried individual even more impatient, Minhyun had settled for another phrasing and better results.

Guanlin readies himself once more before he launches into an explanation. “I was abandoned as a child when my brother took me in. He’s all I have.” Despite the wry smile on his face, his eyes are fond. “But six months ago a man visited. I’ve never seen my brother that furious in my entire life.” A shaky breath. “He never explained, dodging the topic, and I got swept up in school, life, and extracurricular activities. Maybe I thought it was just a standalone event.” He shakes his head, disappointed in himself. It takes a while before he looks back up, fingers nudging his glasses back into place. “He grew more distant after that instance. I didn’t think much of it at first but then… the man came back. I returned home from basketball practice and he was there again, involved in an altercation with my brother.”

“So what do you wish to be done?” Minhyun asks as a matter of fact.

“I—” he looks lost. “I don’t know. Figure out the truth? Help my brother?” His hands form fists as he clenches them. “If it’s a debt and the man is threatening to collect or something like that…” he falters. “I just want to know what’s going on. And help.”

The boy’s gaze is earnest and Seongwoo understands.

Minhyun stands, as graceful as ever, and says: “take me to him.”

 

 

☾

 

 

It’s a large apartment complex, seemingly a decade or two old. Each unit is small. Guanlin lives with his brother on the top floor, corner right.

“Jihoon hyung,” Guanlin calls as he takes off his shoes. Seongwoo and Minhyun follow suit. There’s no reply.

There’s a subtle edge of panic to Guanlin’s voice when he calls again, trying hard to suppress it. He pads around the apartment. There’s still no reply.

Everything in the apartment seems fine. Nothing seems to be missing; nothing is thrown into a haphazard mess as showcased by dramas with robberies. Everything seems to be perfectly normal, which seems to be the issue.

Guanlin’s knuckles rap against a room’s door as he calls again.

“Let hyung sleep, Guanlin-ah.” Is the only reply they receive and the boy seems to be relieved.

But the boy’s will is unrelenting. “Hyung, we have people who can help,” Guanlin tries again. He’s met with silence. “Hyung, please…” He calls his hyung’s name one last time before nearly slumping against the door. Minhyun’s hands steady the boy.

“That’s enough,” he nearly chides, “don’t overexert yourself. There’s still trace amounts of venom in your body.” He says it loud enough for the inhabitant of the room to overhear.

Seongwoo helps Minhyun shoulder Guanlin’s weight as they take him back to the shop.

 

 

☾

 

 

“What should we do?” Seongwoo asks after Guanlin had been tucked away in a guest room futon. He probably should head back but something tells him the night isn’t quite over yet despite Seonho’s constant glares in his direction.

Minhyun gives him a smile that tells him he’s right and Seongwoo can’t help but beam in return.

“There are a few things we can do,” Minhyun starts, “the old technique of scrying where we can get a glimpse at the root cause of the issue. We should start there.”

 

 

 

A basin is filled with water from the clear jugs. A dark lotus pattern is etched into the earthen surface as it sits in a three prong holder. The moon reflected is a crimson red. Eerie as the ripples of water makes it almost seem to dance. The night is quiet as if all the cicadas and crickets had decided to vacate the premises.

Minhyun beckons Seongwoo to come closer. A spell is chanted under his breath.

For it split second there seems to be something that swims across the surface of the basin. Scales. A tail.

Seongwoo looks at Minhyun, puzzled. Minhyun’s lips are pursed as if, he too, was trying to piece something together.

 

 

 

There was one last method.

 

 

 

The same doors Minhyun summoned on their first meeting appears before them.

“Dream travelling?” Seongwoo asks out of curiosity. Minhyun nods. “Can’t you also do this by falling asleep?”

“That’s because he has to bring you,” Seonho scoffs. “Master Minhyun could get anywhere he wanted as long as he knew where to go.” Which, Seongwoo assumes, is the roundabout explanation as to why they used the doors the first time. The satchel was a mere beacon and Seongwoo was probably the guide.

“Can’t we just hold hands while we sleep?” Seongwoo asks, tentative.

Minhyun chuckles, unable to meet Seongwoo’s eyes, dust of pink, amused. Hope settles into Seongwoo’s chest.

“You should get going,” Seonho retorts, rudely. “Watch his back,” Seonho warns Seongwoo, gesturing at Minhyun, while adding: “I don’t care about what happens to yours.”

“Stay safe, Seonho,” Seongwoo finishes with a grin. Seonho waves, expression fond when he thinks Seongwoo isn’t looking.

 

 

☾

 

 

The room they step into is small. A desk a foot or two away from the door and a bed crammed in between that and the wall. There’s a small window, straight ahead, providing a view of other apartment complexes. Directly across from a desk is a cabinet hosting books and medals. Seongwoo picks one up and notices the basketball emblazoned on it and wonders if this was what Seonho’s room would resemble if he hadn’t had his life cut short by tragedy.

It’s not the right room. They turn around to leave when a boy blocks their path with his hands on his hips. Boy is the wrong statement. His face has a boyish air to it but he's not as young as Guanlin, and if Seongwoo was forced to describe it he would use the word cute.

“Can I help you?” he asks.

“I’m assuming you are Guanlin’s brother,” Minhyun states as a matter of fact. The boy loses that defensiveness he had a few moments ago.

“I thought he had come home… where…?”

“At my place,” Minhyun answers, “asleep. Healing. Safe.” The last few words come out as an afterthought.

“Thank you,” the boy says, relieved and sincere. “I suppose I ought to be a proper host as thanks.”

 

 

☾

 

 

“Your brother is worried about you,” Seongwoo blurts, unable to help himself. They had spent most of the time in silence as Jihoon prepared beverages, taking his time before joining them in the living room.

“I know,” he answers, expression unreadable as he turns to meet Minhyun’s eyes. “You know what I am, don’t you?”

Minhyun’s tone is impassive when he says: “a mermaid.” His lips twist, expression wry as he adds: “or rather, a person who has ate mermaid flesh.”

Seongwoo’s certain his face verges on horror when he looks back and forth between Minhyun and the boy.

“The tail and crimson pearl,” Minhyun says as a way of explaining. “A reminder of the blood on your hands. If you remember that is.”

The smile on the boy’s face is humorless, given out of courtesy. “Correct. My name is Jihoon. To pursue knowledge, to live longer, I did what had to be done. Or so that is what this book tells me.” He gives the worn booklet in his lap a pat. “I do not know when I wrote it and under what circumstances. Whether or not I spared myself some of the details, choosing what to document and what to leave forgotten for the rest of eternity. I only know what it tells me.”

He looks at Seongwoo then. “My memory is that of a human. Life the length of a mermaid’s. It feels like a goldfish’s brain. I can only take in so much. But the skills you learn and the emotions that are there won’t vanish. Just muted by time. Until pain becomes numbness then nothing at all.”

“I took him in a decade ago out of pity. To salvage myself as a last resort perhaps… or to craft another pearl to sell. I don’t remember anymore,” Jihoon confesses, closing his eyes.

“And the man?” Minhyun presses further, unwavering, as Jihoon looks at him again, “did you promise your pearl to him?”

The lips curl, amusement lingering in JIhoon’s eyes when he answers: “you know him too, shop keeper. But no. He merely wanted it and threatened to cause Guanlin harm if I couldn’t provide it.”

“So you locked him out.”

“It was bound to happen eventually,” Jihoon says. There’s sorrow in those eyes. “One day he would realize I wasn’t aging, a monster, and this,” he gestures at the apartment, at the life he’s built, “would fall apart. Like it did before.”

“And only then,” Jihoon comments, voice thin and frail, “can a pearl be produced.”

“There must be another—” Seongwoo protests but silences himself when Minhyun pats his knee gently.

“Would you?” he asks, observing Jihoon, “give up immortality, for him?”

“Yes,” Jihoon answers in a heartbeat, “if I could.”

“It’ll be painful.”

“I understand,” Jihoon says, resolute.

For a moment Seongwoo can almost imagine Jihoon in a different era, with the same determination in his eyes as he tears flesh from bone, consumed by avarice.

 

 

☾

 

 

Seongwoo stares at the crimson pearl sitting in Minhyun’s palm. He remembers what looked like blood flowing from Jihoon’s eyes as this was formed.

“The price of this almost surpasses that of taking his immortality away,” Minhyun answers the question Seongwoo hasn’t gotten around to wording. “This is the last of its kind. Meeting a mermaid is rare in this day and age — impossible, in fact. People like him are nonexistent.”

“It's a curse, a powerful one,” Minhyun remarks after nearly drowning in Seongwoo's silent questions. “Not because life was wasted or because a spirit was involved,” Minhyun explains, “but because the human desire for something to happen amplified its power, casting a strong curse.”

“Like the monkey paw?” Seongwoo recollects.

Minhyun nods, “like the monkey paw, like the angel game.”

 

 

☾

 

 

Guanlin goes home the next day, thanking them for their hospitality, none the wiser.

 

 

☾

 

 

A man arrives the day after on a moonless night. Seongwoo had finally weaseled his way into another sleepover after humoring Seonho and doing most of his chores for the day. Even lent the pipefox to him for most of the day and as a cuddle buddy for the night. Seonho had begrudgingly said yes and Minhyun had no comment as long as Seonho was good with it.

Minhyun’s expression tightens when he sees the man.

The layout of the courtyard doesn’t change.

Seongwoo thinks he’s seeing things when he sees what looks like appendages stuck to the man’s back. They disappear when he blinks.

“So he’s the one you would come to the underworld for,” the man says appraising Seongwoo.

“Why are you here?” Minhyun demands. Seongwoo feels lost. Seonho puts a hand on Seongwoo’s back and guides him into the house. A phantom throb in Seongwoo’s left eye answers his question.

“I’m a client tonight, at your mercy, master of this shop.” The man provides a laugh that sends a chill down Seongwoo’s spine. The pipefox wraps itself around Seongwoo protectively, hair standing on its ends as it glares at the man.

 

 

☾

 

 

“Fox fire,” Minhyun warns, gesturing at the ancient lamps in the room. “Threaten me or anyone in this household,” Minhyun tips one dangerously towards the ground, “I won’t cry when you go up in flames.”

“Is this how you treat your clients?” Jaehwan asks, leaning back into the cushions piled up against the wall. Seonho had hurriedly crammed them in while shooting glares at him the entire time. One too many close encounters has instilled a deep mistrust in Seonho, not that Minhyun blames him.

“Only special ones,” Minhyun retorts, baring his teeth. “What is it that you wish to request?”

Jaehwan turns serious then, mirth in his eyes gone. “I believe you have acquired the crimson pearl.”

Minhyun frowns. “What of it?”

“I desire it.”

“And the price? It’ll be too heavy a price for you to pay.”

Amusement weaves its way back to Jaehwan’s lips. “Ironic, isn’t it? For a man who desired the knowledge of the universe to be unable to contain it in his head. For a man who wanted to understand the essence of humanity and lose his in return.”

Minhyun’s lips are pressed in a thin line, devoid of any emotions.

“The price for what we desire is often too heavy to pay.” After a while, Minhyun adds, quiet: “He won’t return to you because of some extravagant gift.” 

“I know. I have my own reasons,” Jaehwan says then tries to laugh it off with a: “who says I can’t desire it for collecting purposes? We both know its value.”

“Precisely because of that,” Minhyun points out.

“And what of you?” Jaehwan asks in return, “What price will you pay to keep him by your side?”

Minhyun refuses to speak and Jaehwan takes it as an answer. He unwraps the item he has brought with him, bundled up in layers of silk.

“I have recently acquired a large branch from a peach tree, the one that hosts the peaches of immortality.” Jaehwan smirks when he says: “I think it’ll be of more use to you than a mere pearl.”

Minhyun considers it before remarking: “you threatened the boy, left some venom in his system but it wasn't enough to kill or paralyze. You don't seem the type to make such an amateur mistake.”

Jaehwan smiles, resting his chin on the back of his hand, basking in silence.

“Something tells me you did this on purpose,” Minhyun says, eyebrows knit, “you don't seem the type to be so kind as to spare another tragedy from occurring.”

“And?” Jaehwan asks with a lilt to his voice.

“I’ll consider your deal,” Minhyun allows.

 

 

☾

 

 

The rabbit like creature turns the pipe in his hands, inspecting every nook and cranny before taking it apart. He places the mouth and front piece into the tank in his cart and fish like creatures rush to clean it. White in appearance with tails of a dream like quality as they swim through the pieces. The glass tubes bubble, obscuring the dance from view. A few more moments before the rabbit takes it out. He inspects it once more before handing it back to Dongho with a new stem fitted. A beautiful red. The rabbit beams when Dongho compliments it.

“It’s hard to find a pipe maker in our world nowadays,” Dongho comments, taking a puff to test and smiles when he finds it more than satisfactory.

“Yes,” the rabbit nods, “humans just don't smoke from these pipes anymore but, at least in our world, they are still going strong.” 

“The price?” Dongho asks, “the usual doesn’t seem enough for an entire new stem.”

“Well then, I have a small favor to ask of you,” the rabbit says, tipping his hat to cover one eye. “I would like you to say _you may enter_ for me.”

Dongho frowns. “But you are already here.”

“Even so. That’s all I want.” The rabbit says.

“Well… if it will really do,” Dongho says, “ _you may enter_.”

A figure steps out from the shadows. Dongho tenses when he recognizes who it is.

“Thank you kindly,” Jaehwan says, smiling, “for the invitation.”

“Sorry,” the rabbit apologizes, scratching at his head, “I’m weak to well told stories.”

“I don’t think this is a fair exchange,” Dongho remarks and the rabbit dips into a bow.

“Next time, I’ll clean your beauty, free of charge,” the rabbit replies, gesturing at the pipe, before vacating the shop.

 

 

☾

 

 

“If he does anything, tell me,” Dongho warns, eyes narrowing at Jaehwan, full of distrust.

Sungwoon gives Dongho’s arm a pat. “I’ll be fine.”

He waits until Dongho’s footsteps recede into the distance before he speaks up again. “This is unexpected.”

Jaehwan says nothing, face impassive as he sets a small box on the table. He lifts the lid. Sitting in the box, on a blanket of velvet, is a single crimson pearl.

Sungwoon stiffens, expression tight.

“It isn’t what you think it is,” Jaehwan explains. “It might have started that way as a means to win you back but not anymore.” He slides the box closer to Sungwoon. “You can’t be won over by something like this. Nothing that I can give can be anything you would want,” he says, voice on the verge of breaking.

“Then what is this?” Sungwoon asks, tone gentle, prompting Jaehwan on.

“A last gift. Last of its kind in more ways than one.” Jaehwan chuckles, mirthless. “Our paths have diverged a long time ago. And if lucky they will converge once more but I’m not banking on it.”

“Minhyun could charge into the mouth of the underworld to get what he wanted. I chose to go around in circles, under the table.” Jaehwan tries to smile but fails. “It’s a symbol, an apology, and a farewell.”

“I still can’t accept it,” Sungwoon shakes his head, “the price is too heavy.”

“I’ve already paid it,” Jaehwan says, eyes soft. “And your acceptance is payment enough.”

“Thank you, Jaehwan,” Sungwoon says, covering the pearl with its lid and stowing it away.

“Till next time then, Sungwoon.” Jaehwan grins easily but Sungwoon knows it is an empty promise.

 

 

☾

 

 

“Where are you going?” Seonho asks as Seongwoo hurriedly puts on his shoes.

“Home,” Seongwoo answers simply. 

“But it’s late,” Seonho protests, “and the roads aren’t safe.”

“I'll be fine,” Seongwoo says easily, giving Seonho a quick wave. “I have something I need to figure out.”

 

 

 

Seonho watches until the front gate swings shut, making Seongwoo's jogging figure disappear from sight.

 

 

☾

 

 

_Everyone's making choices, moving forward as I watch — time frozen._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from this [quote](https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/98088-it-was-written-i-should-be-loyal-to-the-nightmare), ironically fitting considering the themes in Heart of Darkness (read: the thin line between humanity and other, to put it lightly).
> 
> This is one of my favorite stories in the XXXHolic verse (and in XXXHolic Rei too) that I butchered. I'm so so sorry. It's all fun and games until I actually write it out.
> 
> I hope these threads are slowly coming together or will in the next chapter. Hopefully some frequent updates because I'm trying to finish this so that I can dedicate my time to writing my fic for [@101_lovesongs](https://twitter.com/101_lovesongs). There are still a lot of lovely [prompts](https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/15GoKP9G-FY2PscUiq62LYGL0e2B6fwiP5-2sALTla7Y/edit#gid=968366702) out there, please join!


	13. 尋夢者《下》See the Dawn Before the Rest of the World

There’s a certain sense of melancholy that washes over Seongwoo when he ties the last balloon to his bed. Violet, not unlike adding lemon to butterfly pea tea.

But what’s done is done.

Seongwoo closes his eyes and allows sleep to take him.

 

 

☾

 

 

The house in front of him is an odd fusion of modern concepts and traditional principles. The entire house is seemingly made from wood, wrapping around and featuring a rectangular pond that reflects the night sky above. Surrounding the house are small patches of green lawn and borders made from stones not unlike the walls surrounding castles.

It’s strikingly familiar.

A figure stands at the edge of the pond, watching. He smiles in a kind manner that puts Seongwoo at ease.

The man approaches. Not through the house but rather carefully treading the borders of the pond with the grace of a dancer.

“My master had a taste for modern architecture,” he comments, pausing in the middle as if to admire the house for a moment, “perhaps because she lived so long, she liked reminders of the contemporary world as opposed to the constraints of the past.”

“It’s beautiful,” Seongwoo says, taking another glance around. It’s the same as the dreamscape that gifted him the shard. “You must be the leader they mentioned.”

The man laughs, gentle. “I was afraid a sudden introduction would throw you off. It seems I have nothing to worry about.” He follows it with a “Kim Jonghyun.”

“Ong Seongwoo,” Seongwoo says in return, pleased.

Jonghyun takes another glimpse, expression nearly wistful when he utters, in regards to a previous statement, “isn’t it? But to us it is a place of memories. Of innocent times, of happier days.” He tilts his head, considering. “Still remains that way for some of us, I believe,” Jonghyun notes, “We all took something of hers to remember our master by. They chose first.” He then adds, sheepish: “I don’t know why they left this place to me. I don’t deserve it.”

“No,” Seongwoo disagrees, meeting Jonghyun’s eyes. He doesn’t know where this comes from but knows it’s true when he remarks: “I can see why you were left with it.”

Jonhyun laughs, soft. “You are more observant than they give you credit for.”

Seongwoo nearly flushes at the praise and tries to pass it off as a smile of gratitude instead.

 

 

 

Seongwoo realizes, in the short span of time he’s spent with Jonghyun, the nature of the leader of the five. He doesn’t push, doesn’t shove, trusting that you’ll come about on your own with marked indulgence. But something tells Seongwoo that when push does come to shove, he’ll do what’s needed to be done.

The back of the house hosts a garden. Raised beds sporting a variety of vegetables where their master had made them grow and harvest because they had to earn their keep, Jonghyun recalls fondly. A vine hangs heavily under the weight of its ripe red tomatoes. The vine that Minki had once charmed to make it grow faster but all five of them got entangled in its vine for an afternoon — their master laughed at their expense and left them there to suffer under the heat of the sun until dusk arrived. The grapes hang low and full. Aron had once snuck in a bottle of wine to share but their master had downed it in one breath, so they tried to experiment on their own and were left reeling from the taste of soured grapes.

There’s more. Each plant brings back a certain memory and Jonghyun travels down nostalgia lane, introducing each story in a way that makes Seongwoo feel like he was there and witnessed each event.

They stop in front of a plant, overgrown, leaves like that of seaweed. Before Seongwoo can make a sound Jonghyun holds a hand up. Seongwoo silences himself and waits.

A few moments later the white buds begin to bloom into blossoms.

“They are called by many names,” Jonghyun narrates, voice fond, “beauty under the moon, for instance.”

A scene unfolds in Seongwoo’s mind’s eye: five children frolicking under the glow of the moon. A field of white flowers blossom. Fireflies dance. A scene from a dream. A woman looks on before giving in, laughing as she joins the children, barefoot.

“Once a year and wilt by dawn. The _loneliness of the night_ ,” Jonghyun remarks, quietly. “There’s also a saying that goes along with it that says if one is plucked, another will die somewhere else.”

“They were his favorite,” Jonghyun adds as an afterthought before glancing at Seongwoo.

Seongwoo understands. The attraction to the beauty of the ephemeral. He’s half tempted to bring a blossom home but knows it will be futile.

 

 

 

“Using a dream balloon is not a mistake and Minhyun would answer your questions if you asked,” Jonghyun observes. “Why are you here, Seongwoo?”

Seongwoo thinks of Jihoon swallowing back the cries of pain as immortality was ripped from his being. Or the one who ate his eye marching into the one place that welcomed him the least.  
( But more than any of these is a brief moment before his left eye is consumed by an eternal darkness, before the red lips — a glimpse of a figure so familiar it tugged at his heart strings while he convinced himself it was a dream, a mistake, a figment of his imagination. After all, Aron had said it was irretrievable and who would go to such lengths for him? )

“I could. I want to,” Seongwoo confesses, “but before that I want to meet him where he is.”

Jonghyun smiles, pleased.

“ _The effects brought by these wishes depends on those who wish_ ,” he recites. “Have you decided upon yours?”

Seongwoo looks at the flowers. “Almost.”

Jonghyun gives him space, time.

When Seongwoo meets his eyes again Jonghyun shakes his head. “You don’t have to tell me,” he says, gently, “those words aren’t for me to hear.”

Jonghyun cups a blossom in his hand. It begins to wilt. The sky is beginning to lighten. He looks up.

“Every time we make a decision, we move towards the future,” Jonghyun says, glancing at Seongwoo. “People can’t help but to always keep choosing…” he trails off, giving Seongwoo another reassuring smile before he adds: “their own destiny.”

Before Seongwoo can say anything, Jonghyun remarks: “dawn is arriving. A dreamer’s journey ends here.”

 

 

☾

 

 

Seongwoo wakes up in his own bed, fragrance of the cereus still lingers. The violet balloon lies in his hand, deflated, pricked full of holes.

He places it in the drawer where the rest of them are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
>   * Jonghyun's place was modeled after [this](http://www.ifitshipitshere.com/modern-south-korean-home-design-based-feng-shui-principles/).
>   * The flowers mentioned are [epiphyllum petalum](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Epiphyllum_oxypetalum). There's a beautiful idiom that goes with it: 曇花一現.
>   * Balloon colors were based off the Nu'est W teasers and Minhyun's was off of [this edit](https://img00.deviantart.net/fa55/i/2017/208/1/8/nu_est_w___if_you_by_karmarisma-dbhucme.png).
> 

> 
> This chapter title and the chapter title of 4 is taken from this [quote](https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/2447-yes-i-am-a-dreamer-for-a-dreamer-is-one). A last short chapter. 
> 
> We begin to near the end.


	14. Anything Can Happen, Anything Believed In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear reader,
> 
> It's been such a long journey. There are still some chapters to go but I wanted to take this time to thank you.
> 
> This chapter is for you.

The office is like any other professor’s office. A desk with a comfortable leather rolling chair, a small seating area with faded floral sofa chairs to provide a space for friendly interaction, and walls lined with bookshelves hosting books that are falling into each other and various other decorations. There’s one in particular that catches his eye. A stone the size of his palm, the color of amber, seated in a white velvet case. When Seongwoo leans in closer to take a look, the amber swirls. What seems to be a collection of bubbles swims frantically in circles.

“You have a good eye for things,” a voice remarks, causing Seongwoo to jolt in surprise.

He turns around to find his new professor appraising him from behind his thick frames.

“Thank you?” Seongwoo says, tentative as his professor walks to his desk and takes a seat.

“Although I don’t know what that is, exactly, but it can’t be explained by science nor is it documented anywhere.” The professor waves before returning his attention to the student before him and adding: “What can I do for you, Ong-sshi?”

“I just wanted to get started with brainstorming for the final research project for the course,” Seongwoo starts as he digs in his bag for his notebook.

“Most people take this course because it is an easy way to pass the requirement,” the professor says, careful, “but you actually seemed invested during class. And now this.”

Seongwoo fidgets under his professors unwavering gaze. “I have a friend…” he trails off, uncertain as to how to continue and gives up with a: “he introduced me to folklore and got me interested?” Then tries to change the subject by mentioning: “He knows a lot. He might even know what that is.” Pointing at the amber.

The professor’s eyes seem to sparkle from the mere mention. The pursuit of knowledge never seems to end for scholars. “It would be an honor to meet him, if it was possible,” the professor concludes.

Seongwoo’s mouth goes dry. “I’ll try…” attempting not to promise anything.

The professor nods. “Then let’s address what you are here for.” Gesturing at Seongwoo to take a seat.

 

 

☾

 

 

“You’re here,” Minhyun greets as Seongwoo enters, “let’s go.”

“Go where?” Seongwoo asks, baffled, looking to Seonho for answers. The kid just shrugs.

“Jiyoung noona’s place,” Minhyun replies as he walks towards the door.

“Ahhh,” Seonho sounds, grinning. Seongwoo throws him a look as Seonho cheekily bids him goodbye with a: “have fun errand boy!”

And as if they had conspired together, Minhyun takes the chance to place a heavy silk wrapped package into Seongwoo’s arms.

“Thank you,” Minhyun says smoothly, offering Seongwoo a smile that renders him unable to complain.

 

 

☾

 

 

“So we finally get to be formally introduced to one another,” Jiyoung says with a kind smile. Her hair is pulled back into a loose ponytail, dressed casually as she juggles her son in her arms. “Jiyoung,” she introduces.

Seongwoo bows in reply, supplying his own name: “Ong Seongwoo” before they are all ushered into the house.

It’s a single building a red brick like exterior that stands three stories tall. The interior is simple, minimalistic in its decorations and arrangement. The wooden floors, white walls, and large windows give off a feeling of spaciousness.

“His master,” Jiyoung comments while pointing a finger at Minhyun, watching as Seongwoo admires her house, “took a lot of ideas from me when she remodeled her own place.”

There’s a small courtyard at the heart of house. A glass door, not unlike the one at Jonghyun’s place, separates the exterior from the interior. The ceiling, right by the glass door, has an odd pattern as if some body of water was reflected from the courtyard and captured. A shadow of a fish swims across and Seongwoo turns towards the courtyard in awe.

“There’s nothing there,” he remarks. The courtyard is bare, tiled with stones. A lone tree grows into the space but from a raised bed adjacent to the square courtyard.

“But there is,” Minhyun says, staring at the courtyard, “a pond.”

Seongwoo takes another look. Still sees nothing. Above him another shadow of a fish swims idyllically across the water refraction pattern reflected on the ceiling.

“Indeed,” Jiyoung confirms. “I bought this place to protect the little ones. I can’t save them all but I should do what I can.”

Seongwoo frowns and closes the distance between him and Minhyun, looking out to the courtyard and back to Minhyun again. Eventually, he crouches and tries to look into Minhyun’s eyes. It elicits a laugh from Minhyun who covers it with a hand, allowing it to create distance between them as his cheeks are dusted with pink. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to see if it is reflected in your eyes,” Seongwoo says, suddenly self-conscious, heat rising in his face.

“That’s not how it works,” Minhyun says, smiling. Seongwoo wants to believe that Minhyun’s eyes grow fond but it’s probably amusement at his childlike thinking process.

“We share an eye,” Seongwoo mutters under his breath.

“Exactly,” Minhyun says, giving him a small pat on the back. “Jiyoung will help you develop your sight.”

“So that’s the reason for the visit,” Jiyoung remarks as she places her son down in the playpen. “Although I’m not complaining about the payment. Isn’t that one of your master’s treasured liquors?” She gestures at the package in Seongwoo’s arms and Minhyun easily takes it from him, carrying it to the kitchen where he sets it down.

“A fair price,” Minhyun says, sagely.

“Trying to bribe me to be gentle with him?” Jiyoung asks, teasingly.

“Who knows,” Minhyun answers, coy. Then he turns to Seongwoo and says: “She’s better at developing innate talent than I am. I just thought…” he trails off. “I’m sorry.”

Seongwoo shakes his head because Minhyun doesn’t owe him an apology. So instead he says: “thank you.”

Minhyun gives him a small smile, the one Seongwoo can’t help but return.

 

 

 

Seongwoo’s lying where he can see the ripples of the pond playing against the white ceiling. The occasional fish swims past, a black shadow or two depending on their mood and swimming pattern. The image provides a sense of tranquility. It’s disrupted by a small hand that presses on his abdomen.

Seongwoo laughs as he sits up, reaching over to carefully reposition Jiyoung’s son so that he’s seated safely in his lap. He gives him a small bounce and laughs along when the infant gives a delighted chuckle. Jiyoung emerges with a platter of snacks and a two glasses of barley tea.

“What were you mulling over?” she asks, referring to how transfixed Seongwoo was before her son managed to finally grasp his attention.

Seongwoo turns back towards the courtyard. “I wonder what color the fish are. Must be beautiful for Minhyun to look that serene.”

He then flops back down, keeping the child suspended in air as he falls onto his back. The baby provides another peal of laughter. Seongwoo sets the child on his chest who then takes the opportunity to shove his hand against Seongwoo’s face, slapping his nose. Seongwoo scrunches it and makes a face. The child giggles.

Jiyoung looks on, fond. “You’ll see them soon.”

“Will I?” Seongwoo asks as he tries to look at Jiyoung but her son takes up most of his field of vision. “It’s been a week and there’s been barely any progress.” He then narrows his eyes and asks, jokingly: “are you suppressing my abilities so you have a free babysitter for a long period of time?”

Jiyoung laughs, amused. “I only have the sight and some clairvoyant abilities. Nowhere near what you are suggesting.”

“I know,” Seongwoo pouts, and then winces when the child decides to press a sticky hand against his cheek. “You’re so lucky you’re so cute,” he mutters as he lifts himself up a little to kiss the child on the cheek.

 

 

 

Jiyoung has kindly taken her own child into her own hands as Seongwoo tries to prevent himself from smashing his head against the ground while poring over ancient texts. Some of them were borrowed from his university’s library, a few of them from Jisung’s storage, and at least two from what he had found to be of relevance on Jiyoung’s shelf. She looks on with interest as she presses a bottle to her son’s lips.

“Folklore?”

Seongwoo nods.

“Why?”

Seongwoo frowns, looking up. Then decides he’s not getting anywhere with deciphering this text so he might as well take a break when he answers: “it’s… interesting?”

“Shouldn’t there be more to it than _interesting_? No one tries to crack their skull open over a subject or return religiously to try to catch a glimpse of the elusive,” she comments with a knowing smile. “Are you thinking of making a career out of it?”

Seongwoo shrugs. “I don’t know. I just…” he trails off, trying to string his thoughts together. “Think it’s a pity. A part of our culture is being lost because no one can _see_ anymore nor does anyone care with the ongoing massive globalization. To lose so much just feels sad?”

“Is that so?”

“I never knew what I wanted to do in life. Still don’t, I suppose. But this is the closest I’ve gotten,” Seongwoo says, nearly longingly as he thumbs through another text, feeling the yellowed pages. “The more I discover, the more interesting it gets. Besides,” he says, taking a glance at the courtyard, “it makes me feel closer to him.”

He turns back to her, providing a sheepish smile. Amusement dances in her eyes as she continues to feed her son.

Out of the corner of his eye, Seongwoo catches a glimpse of a beautiful pond surrounded by stones, a pure white fish with a sole red spot on its head and a red and white speckled carp swim by.

When he turns, they vanish. The courtyard is the same as before.

 

 

 

Seongwoo dreams of water: submerged, over his head, but not drowning. He’s breathing out bubbles. They rise to the surface far, far above where the round outline of the sun can be seen. Fish swim in circles around him, lazily. There’s one in particular that catches his eye. White with red patches. But instead of having black ink blots across the body it combines with a tinge of blue, adding an edge to each red scale. The fins look almost transparent.

Seongwoo reaches out to touch it. It opens its mouth and takes a bite.

 

 

 

Seongwoo’s hand is a slobbering mess and he can see the indents from teeth where the child had bitten him. It’s probably his fault for falling asleep on the floor and allowing himself to be vulnerable to an attack.

The ceiling is as always: reflecting a pool of water he cannot see.

He turns towards the courtyard, expecting the stone floors and empty space but instead there’s a mesmerizing pond. Seongwoo sits up.

A beautiful fish swims across the pond, larger and longer than most, solid white spare for the patches on his back where it seems like some careless artist had accidentally tipped over bottles of paint, unwashable splotches of orange, red, and black. There’s one that looks almost golden under the sun, orange scales reflecting the sun’s rays, but had bumped into a well of ink as it poured black over its face and spine. There’s a carp that also looks golden but instead of orange it’s a metallic yellow over a laquerish black body. One looks almost skeletal, another almost transparent, one that looks like it’s been gilded with silver. And then the one from the dream that surfaces once before swimming away.

Seongwoo turns back towards the child, gathering him in his arms before kissing both sides of his cheeks. He gives an elated shout that brings Jiyoung out. “You’re magic,” Seongwoo says to the child, tickling his belly as the boy giggles, and giving him one more kiss.

 

 

 

They throw him a mini party when Seongwoo returns to Minhyun’s place. Seongwoo rejoices at the sight of meat. Seonho still gave him grief but even that didn’t dampen his mood at all.

 

 

☾

 

 

“So my professor…” Seongwoo starts, hesitant as of how to continue, “collects odd objects and has one in his possession that he can’t understand.”

Minhyun glances at Seongwoo, patient as he waits for Seongwoo to divulge more.

“I was…” Seongwoo’s mouth goes dry, “hoping you could accompany me and maybe help my professor out.”

“Are you trying to gain brownie points by using me?” Minhyun asks teasingly.

“No I just —” Seongwoo protests, embarrassed, “wanted to know as well.”

 

 

 

Despite the number of times Seongwoo has seen the object, it’s still mesmerizing. Even more so when Minhyun cups it in his hands. The bubbles dance.

“It’s beautiful,” Minhyun says, turning to face Seongwoo’s professor. The amber seems to glow a warmer orange and equilibrate in his hand.

“I’ve never seen it like that,” the professor remarks.

“To be honest,” Minhyun confesses, “even I don’t know what it is. All I know is that it contains water. Rain water.”

“Ah,” Seongwoo gasps and looks at Minhyun, “you mean…” he starts before remembering they are in the company of his professor.

The professor looks between them, brows knitting, before turning to Minhyun. “So you know someone who can help.”

“Someone who might,” Minhyun corrects, “if I could bring this to them.”

The professor frowns, giving it a thought before turning to Seongwoo. “If it disappears, I can flunk you,” he warns, jokingly.

“Understood,” Seongwoo says, giving him a salute as Minhyun tries to keep himself from bursting into laughter.

 

 

 

Minhyun brings out a porcelain vase, white spare for the depictions of daffodils by a clear stream of water. He fills it to the brim with the water from well. Seongwoo’s amazed at how much of it is still left but considering how the containers felt endless, he’s not that surprised. Minhyun shifts the vase so that it catches the reflection of the full moon above. He drops a few crystals into it. The pipefox who was slumbering wakes up then, wrapping itself excitedly around Seongwoo, nearly choking him.

“Seems like the little one is excited,” Minhyun chuckles under his breath when he notices. Seongwoo looks at him, puzzled. “It’s where the pipefox originates. I’m guessing the little one wants to pay his hometown a visit,” Minhyun explains.

Seongwoo coaxes his pipefox to stay put around his wrist. “What next?”

Minhyun offers Seongwoo his hand. Seongwoo takes it, hoping he’s not grinning like a fool. ( Seonho’s fed up expression tells him otherwise. )

“Now,” Minhyun instructs, “look into the vase.”

When he does, Seongwoo becomes submerged in water, hand still holding Minhyun’s. The crystals that Minhyun had dropped into the vase sparkle, nearly twice their size as they sink towards the bottom. Bubbles rise to the surface far above. Reflex sets in as Seongwoo starts to kick towards the surface, letting go of Minhyun’s hand as they swim to the top. The moon is still reflected.

They emerge.

It isn’t Minhyun’s shop anymore. A cluster of daffodils stands ten stories tall. There are wisps of smoke, fragrant. Butterflies flutter. The air seems to sparkle. There’s a clear stream in between where they stand and the daffodils in their beautiful buttercup yellow. His pipefox uncoils from his wrist and chooses to take up one of Seongwoo's shoulder, sniffing at the air. It smells clean, pure somehow.

Seongwoo looks to Minhyun for answers but Minhyun just stands there, eyes closed. Droplets of water drip from his hair, sliding down his cheek, and off the edge of his jaw. Seongwoo thinks it is his imagination when the daffodils seem to turn to face Minhyun.

_Hello child, it has been a while._

Minhyun smiles and opens his eyes. “Indeed,” he answers as Seongwoo frantically turns around, trying to locate the source of the voice. “I must ask for your permission once more to connect me to the mountain,” Minhyun requests.

_For your companion as well?_

“Please,” Minhyuns says as Seongwoo narrows his eyes, staring at a daffodil.

_Indeed._

The voice says and the daffodil grows to a size that could eclipse a normal human being. Its voice booms this time.

 _You have found me, child_.

Other daffodils seem to giggle in unison as Seongwoo ducks behind Minhyun, gripping his elbow. Minhyun gives Seongwoo’s hand a small pat.

“Please don’t tease him.”

The daffodil laughs as it shrinks back to its normal size.

_It’s hard not to. The path is now connected. Please continue, keeper of the shop._

Minhyun bows in thanks, hand catching Seongwoo’s as he encourages Seongwoo to keep walking.

 

 

 

“What was that?” Seongwoo asks once there are no daffodils in sight.

“The daffodil jar,” Minhyun explains, “a world inside a jug where daffodil spirits reside. Now we are travelling to the mountain where the rain sprite dwells.”

“How does that work?” Seongwoo asks, curious. “We were inside a jar.”

“Places with strong, pure aura have connecting pathways to one another,” Minhyun says as he points up ahead.

 

 

 

“To think you would come all the way here to see me,” Jieqiong says, smirking, “to what do I owe this honor?”

“Are you not going to invite us to sit?” Minhyun asks.

Jieqiong gives Seongwoo a long side glance before pursing her lips. “There are stones everywhere. Pick one and sit,” she says with a sweeping gesture.

There are larger rocks at the edge of the stream. Seongwoo picks one that is elevated and climbs it, seats himself by the edge, swinging his feet as his pipefox attacks Jieqiong with affection. Minhyun takes a seat next to Seongwoo.

“Hmph,” the rain sprite sounds, “he tells me you are treating him well. A relief because I would have taken him back if you weren’t.”

She then turns to look at Minhyun pointedly.

Minhyun retrieves an object from his pocket, wrapped in pink silk. He tugs it loose and reveals the amber.

“We would like to know what it is,” Minhyun says.

“And the price for such knowledge?”

“A favor,” Minhyun answers.

Jieqiong purses her lips. “You came all the way here,” she begins, “and offer such a payment for a mere human?” She cocks her head and looks at him quizzically. “Or for him?”

Minhyun smiles, refusing to answer, instead he just brings the amber out.

“The sound of water?” she asks, gaze unwavering.

“Yes,” Minhyun replies, “so I believe you know what it is.”

“What makes you think that?” Jieqiong asks as she leans forward to get a better look.

“This piece is filled with water,” Minhyun answers.

“There are also many different types of water,” she answers, reluctantly.

“Yes,” Minhyun agrees, “that’s true. But this one has the essence of rain.”

He places the amber into her hands.

Jieqiong closes her eyes. “Yes, flowing inside it is rain water and”

“it’s a truly exceptional type, isn’t it?” Minhyun finishes.

She quiets and opens her eyes. “A dragon’s egg. Or more accurately, a dragon’s familiar egg.”

The bubbles swirl. Seongwoo wonders how they could have been so blind all along with its snake like appearance and the way it swam. At a closer look, the whiskers of a dragon can be seen as it curls into its full serpent form.

“A dragon’s familiar in control of rainwater dwells inside,” Jieqiong smiles, fond, giving it one more pat before gently placing it into the silk. “It’s powerful so tell whoever is taking care of it to be gentle with it,” she says while looking at Seongwoo. Seongwoo nods.

“Now you owe me,” she finishes, turning her attention back to Minhyun.

“Indeed,” Minhyun says easily with a smile before clasping Seongwoo by the shoulder. “He’s at your service, anytime.”

Jieqiong scrunches her nose in distaste which elicits a laugh from Minhyun.

 

 

☾

 

 

Seongwoo returns the familiar’s egg on a Thursday. His professor thanks him, asks about Minhyun, and mentions how he wouldn’t raise Seongwoo’s grades because of this.

 _I know_ , Seongwoo said with a grin, _just consider me for an assistant position if it ever comes up_.

 

 

☾

 

 

“So as I was saying…” Jisung says and Seongwoo can barely pay attention because there’s a disembodied hand latched onto Jisung’s wrist. It only goes up to the elbow, fingernails trimmed and polished, digging into Jisung’s arms to leave crescent indents behind. There’s no sign of a body attached to it and whenever someone gets too close to Jisung, it reaches out to slap or scratch at whatever surface it can find.

Seongwoo frowns. “Have you been feeling alright lately?”

“Yeah,” Jisung answers quickly, “why do you ask?”

Seongwoo forces a smirk as he says: “just worried you were getting old.”

Jisung scowls and bumps Seongwoo’s shoulder.

 

 

 

As they part ways, Seongwoo takes another look at the hand. It feels too sinister to keep it there. Besides, both Minki and Minhyun had mentioned something about purification.

Seongwoo grasps the hand by the wrist and squeezes until it lets go. The hand vanishes in a puff of smoke.

Jisung stares at him oddly as Seongwoo tries to laugh it off, waving his friend a quick goodbye as he rushes in the other direction.

A sharp, stabbing pain strikes Seongwoo in his wrist.

 

 

 

“Welcome back,” Minhyun says with a smile and for a moment Seongwoo forgets about the dull throb in his arm. Until Minhyun’s brows knit as he gently grasps Seongwoo’s hand. It flares up. Minhyun’s fingers are pliant against Seongwoo’s skin, carefully arranged to evade something.

“What did you touch?” Minhyun asks, concerned. A dark mark begins to surface where Minhyun’s fingers are avoiding. Not a bruise but rather a set of markings decorate his skin, making it appear like a curse.

“Probably a spirit. It was attached to my friend’s arm and I didn’t want it to bother him. Besides, don’t I have powers of purification or something,” Seongwoo answers, before adding a: “what’s wrong?”

Minhyun ignores him, muttering a spell under his breath, his free hand hovering over the mark. The area glows faintly and then

nothing.

“Don’t do that again,” Minhyun says, stern as he looks up at Seongwoo, “it’s not how this works. You just learned how to use your sight. It’s way too early for you to be exorcising evil.” Minhyun heaves a sigh when he catches the expression on Seongwoo’s face. “What I mean is that some things are too powerful for you to handle alone. This was powerful enough to curse you despite not being the main body. What happens next time? What if you aren’t so lucky?”

Seongwoo quietly places his hand over Minhyun’s, slides it off his wrist. The other hand reaches for Minhyun’s free hand. He holds them both. “Then give me a way to do it. Until then, I’ll try not to dabble in something I don’t understand.” Seongwoo then adds with a short chuckle: “I can’t promise the same when it comes to my friends though.”

“You would do it for your friends too,” Seongwoo remarks as an afterthought and Minhyun can’t refute it.

“You’re impertinent,” Minhyun retorts instead, relenting.

“I might have been told that once or twice, yes,” Seongwoo laughs, grinning. It grows wider when Minhyun smiles in return.

“I wish to meet that friend of yours,” Minhyun says much later, “I have a feeling the main body lurks around him.”

 

 

 

“Oh this is rare,” Jisung greets as he opens the door for Seongwoo, “to what do I owe this honor?” Then realizes, a moment later, that Seongwoo is not alone. Jisung takes a moment to appraise Minhyun before commenting: “I didn’t think you had any other friends besides me.”

Minhyun’s lips twist into a semblance of a smirk as he responds without missing a beat: “neither did I.”

Seongwoo groans as Jisung’s eyes light up. “I like him already,” Jisung offers Minhyun a smile before nudging Seongwoo’s arm, “should’ve introduced me to him earlier.” He then turns to Minhyun. “Jisung, by the way.”

“Minhyun. Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Minhyun introduces with a polite bow.

Jisung returns it with a soft sigh. “To think I had to deal with a brat for this long when I could’ve had better company.”

Seongwoo’s protest falls on deaf ears as Jisung ushers them into his house.

There’s a clatter against the counter from where Jisung’s sister gapes at the two guests. “You’re so handsome.” The way it comes out sounds like a thought being accidentally pulled out of her.

“Thank you,” Seongwoo says with a smile, acknowledging her as Jisung continues to herd them to his room.

“Umm…” she sounds, nervous, blushing as she realizes what she had just said. “I was talking to your friend,” she corrects, on the verge of bluntness.

Jisung does one of those laughs where he tries to suppress it but fails so it just looks like he’s choking on air. ( Serves him right. ) Minhyun has the audacity to look embarrassed with a soft _thank you_. Seongwoo just flushes in indignation and mutters _I’m never bringing him anywhere again_.

 

 

 

“I’m glad he looks happier lately,” Jisung comments when he’s certain Seongwoo isn’t around, having excused himself for a bathroom break. “A few months ago he was an absolute wreck. Drank himself to the point of not remembering his own name. The only thing he could remember was the person who ‘changed his life’.” Jisung put the last part in air quotes as he looks at Minhyun.

“Do you know who that may be?” Minhyun asks tentatively.

Jisung offers a shrug and a smile, one that seems to be hiding something. “Who knows.” Then softly: “I don’t want to see him get hurt again.”

“He's just…” Jisung changes the topic, sighing as he stares at the door of his room, “so unwilling to let people in, get to know him. Everyone I introduce him to, he keeps it superficial. Sometimes even I think that he’s only _friends_ with me because of my grandpa’s texts.” Jisung chuckles at that, soulless.

“I doubt that,” Minhyun says with conviction and a sense of sincerity that Jisung can’t shake off. “He cherishes your friendship. You.”

Minhyun offers a smile, one that hopefully seems reassuring, half tempted to recount the instances but normal humans wouldn’t understand. So he leaves it at that and reaches over, towards the hand that had just materialized once more. It had drastically weakened from Seongwoo’s attempts. It vanishes for good when Minhyun touches it.

Jisung looks at him in surprise and flexes his wrist. “How did you know its been feeling stiff the past few days?”

Minhyun gives him a small shrug, leaving Jisung to guess as he asks instead: “how long has it been like this?”

“It didn’t get worse till last Sunday but there was an odd throb a few weeks ago when I went into the storage to retrieve a few things for Seongwoo.”

“Can I see it? The storage I mean.”

 

 

 

“Hey,” Seongwoo greets when he catches up, “you guys weren’t in the room so…” He trails off when he sees Minhyun facing the door of the storage. The aura of something sinister comes off it in waves. A putrid odor seeps out, reminding Seongwoo of the space beneath the hydrangeas. A shiver runs down his spine.

Minhyun turns around to look at him and Seongwoo immediately makes up some complaint about how the toilet roll that ran out and that Jisung’s sister went in after him and how he would hate to have someone be stranded and helpless. Jisung rushes into the house and Minhyun offers a smile of gratitude.

Minhyun snaps his fingers. A spark flies, shooting into the storage room, bouncing around as it sets something alight. The atmosphere is filled with a bone chilling screech and Seongwoo sees a figure’s shadow casted upon the far wall in the storage due to the bright flames.

It ends with a soft wail. Something pricks Seongwoo’s arm again but when he takes a look at it, the mark has vanished. The flames in the storage space extinguish themselves. Minhyun’s forehead is beaded with sweat and Seongwoo hurries to his side so that when Minhyun falters, he doesn’t fall.

 

 

☾

 

 

Seonho makes a fuss when they return with an _I knew it_ and then accuses Seongwoo of failing to take care of Minhyun well enough, while rambling about how he had planned ahead and prepped dinner and how Seongwoo ought to be grateful. Seongwoo is, makes a point of expressing his gratitude. Seonho mutters something else under his breath while not really meaning it and rushes back into the kitchen.

Minhyun leans against one of the pillars with his eyes closed. Seongwoo is seated on the table bench across from Minhyun.

Cicadas chirp, the sole electric fan whirs softly in the corner, faint clanks drift from the kitchen area. The lights inside the house cast a warm glow across Minhyun’s features, creating shadows that highlight edges and corners. Occasionally the fan blows from a direction that stirs Minhyun’s bangs and causes his shirt to flap a bit.

Minhyun cracks an eye open and notices Seongwoo watching him.

“What are you thinking about?” he entertains.

“Do you… know how attractive you are,” Seongwoo says without thinking, like always, but this time he hears himself afterwards. Shame floods his cheeks.

“Oh really?” Minhyun sounds as pink dusts his cheeks and he averts Seongwoo’s gaze.

Seongwoo nearly gawks at the sight of that. A voice inside his head unhelpfully supplies _fuck that’s cute_.

It’s interrupted by Seonho’s smack of the back of Seongwoo’s head and “don’t use his weakness against him!”

“What weakness?” Seongwoo demands as he glares at Seonho.

“No client ever remembers Minhyun because they are too absorbed by their own issues, rendering Master Minhyun with no immunity against compliments!”

“Oh please,” Seongwoo says with a wave of his hand, “he must get them when he ventures out.”

Minhyun clears his throat. “Perhaps, but I don’t really find my face attractive,” he confesses and Seongwoo just gapes.

“Wow,” Seongwoo whistles under his breath, shaking his head, “imagine having a face like that and uttering words like this. What, pray tell, is your face type then?”

Minhyun stays silent. Not that it matters because Seonho’s screech fills the atmosphere as he spits: “it’s ten thousand years too early for you to be hitting on Master Minhyun!”

“I’d be dead in ten thousand years!” Seongwoo protests.

“Exactly,” Seonho retorts waving his spatula in front of Seongwoo in disapproval as he sets the pan of fried rice down.

“You are younger than me. You have no right to set restrictions,” Seongwoo wails dramatically.

“Just by a few years, maybe two,” Seonho refutes quickly, “besides, Master Minhyun is your age and I bet even he would agree with me.”

Seongwoo gapes as the information gets processed, looking between Seonho and Minhyun with an expression that borders on the hurt of betrayal. He jabs a finger in Minhyun’s direction. “He’s _my_ age?”

Seonho frowns. “I thought you knew. How old did you think he was?”

Minhyun chooses, wisely, to keep silent as Seonho passes him a spoon and he begins to dig into the fried rice.

“I don’t know? Old? Time doesn’t really exist in the world between and he doesn’t even own a phone,” Seongwoo points out, forgetting about his grumbling stomach.

“Why would I need one?” Minhyun asks, looking at Seongwoo.

“To contact _me_?” Seongwoo huffs. Seonho snorts causing Seongwoo to blubber and defensively argue: “you can use a phone for other things! Like taking photos or playing games.” He digs his phone out of his pocket and quickly swipes through the apps to find one to prove his point, shoving the device in Minhyun’s face.

Seongwoo catches Seonho trying to peer at the screen from the corner of his eyes and smiles, smug. “See? You miss it too.” Before turning back to Minhyun who has already started to become absorbed with the graphics and world. He snickers softly before recalling: “so if he’s never really used a phone before, what else has he missed out on?” Seongwoo turns to Seonho for answers. “Normal teenage things? A day wasted at the arcade? Karaoke? We should introduce him to such things.”

Seonho shrugs. Seongwoo takes this chance to inch closer, looking over Minhyun’s shoulder as Minhyun keeps his eyes glued to the screen with such an intensity Seongwoo wonders when he will ever be on the receiving end of it. Seongwoo points out a few tips for the game that Minhyun takes with an appreciative nod of his head. He dies moments later.

“What do you think?” Seongwoo asks, voice gentle when Minhyun looks up from the device. “Have you ever gone to an arcade or karaoke?”

Minhyun looks to Seonho for answers.

“We should all go,” Seongwoo tries persuading, “the three of us. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

“Only if Seonho wants to,” Minhyun says, looking at Seonho.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt,” Seonho allows with a nod of his head.

Seongwoo rejoices. “How does next Thursday sound? I won’t have classes then.”

“Won’t have or choose not to have?” Seonho points out with a scrunch of his nose.

“Shut up,” Seongwoo answers through a mouthful of rice, “I was going to compliment you on this but now I have to reconsider.”

“Like your opinion ever mattered,” Seonho says easily. His face contorts into a beautiful smile the moment his attention turns to Minhyun. “As long as Master Minhyun likes it I am satisfied.”

Minhyun laughs, delighted, hand ruffling Seonho as a way of complimenting him.

 

 

☾

 

 

Seongwoo regrets many things in life, including the decision to invite Seonho along. There’s a mountain of tickets being collected by Seonho’s feet, overflowing from the bag they had asked the storekeeper for as Seonho continues to throw basketballs into the hoop. The few employees look on, both concerned and amazed at how well this kid is doing. He never misses a shot. Maybe once in a blue moon but otherwise he became a machine: grabbing a basketball that rolled in front of him and shooting it in the perfect formation. Seongwoo’s own pile was measly at best from his attempts at various games. ( At least he got to race Minhyun at one point while Seonho was heavily distracted, focused on beating the recorded high score on his machine. )

Seonho turns around, smug, as he dumps the bag of tickets onto the counter. “Take your pick,” he announces graciously as he does a wide sweeping gesture that included everything and anything displayed as prizes.

Yet in the end, Seonho had selected the prizes. Minhyun’s stuffed animal engulfed his entire being. Seongwoo received a small cellphone charm. Seonho got something matching for Minhyun and himself, grinning at Seongwoo the entire time.

It doesn’t matter, Seongwoo tells himself. He had cashed all his tickets in exchange for a small gray stuffed cat, smaller than the size of his palm, with a simple chain that could allow it to dangle from a ring of keys or from a hand. Seongwoo gifts it to Minhyun.

“Something to commemorate this day with,” Seongwoo had excused and Minhyun had smiled in a way that almost made Seongwoo’s insides collapse upon itself. ( Regret forgotten. )

 

 

☾

 

 

“Do you think he might be tone deaf?” Seongwoo speculates as he whispers into Seonho’s ear, scandalously.

Seonho shoves Seongwoo lightly. “This is _Minhyun_ we are talking about,” Seonho replies before breaking into a soft chuckle at the thought of it.

“How old do you think the song selection will be?” Seongwoo interjects, unrelenting.

“Wanna bet?” Seonho challenges with a grin.

“I can hear you,” Minhyun warns as he presses play. Seongwoo nearly gawks at him. Minhyun merely shrugs. “My master was fond of watching dramas,” he explains as he turns his attention back to the screen and starts singing.

It’s sweet, giving a different interpretation to the song. Seongwoo almost prefers this more than the original. Seonho probably thinks the same because he seems to be melting, clutching his chest as a grin takes over his face, closing his eyes to absorb Minhyun’s singing even more. Seongwoo’s tempted to do the same. Does it with a dramatic flair because it was a losing battle to begin with.

Minhyun turns around to ask for opinions when he finds two individuals dabbing at their eyes. One dramatic, the other sincere. He tries to hand the microphone over but it gets rejected.

“Do another one,” Seonho encourages and Seongwoo nods in agreement.

“Do them all,” Seongwoo says and Minhyun indulges because rarely do they ever agree on anything.

 

 

 

Minhyun’s voice is hankering upon raw when their time is up and Seongwoo hands him a glass of water that Seonho aggressively pours honey into and stirs.

Minhyun laughs at the scene before him, a sense of joy settling in his chest. The warmth of the drink fills his chest.

 

 

☾

 

 

Minhyun stares intensely at a scroll hanging on the wall of an inn in Damyang County. It’s an unassuming little inn that has been managed for generations, Minki had explained. It is still ran by the same family whose ability had died out generations ago and Jonghyun had been planning to visit to get a glimpse at the temporary exhibit about spirits and ghosts. Except he got caught up in some work and Minhyun was the next best candidate, besides, Minki had no attendant and needed to borrow Seonho and Seongwoo was a good assistant substitute to take on such a trip. Which is why Seongwoo is looking at ancient depictions of mythical creatures, unable to read the text. Some of them are in hanja, others are mere scribbles. Maybe his professor would have a field day with this but knowing him, he probably already visited the day the exhibit was open to public.

Seongwoo takes a glance at Minhyun’s whose brows are knitted as he jots things down on a notepad. Seongwoo’s tempted to smooth them so he approaches. “You can read this?”

Minhyun turns towards Seongwoo, surprised, as if he had been broken out of a trance. “Barely. Jonghyun is the one who can make the most of this. Which is probably why he wanted to visit,” Minhyun remarks with a sigh.

“Maybe he’ll have a chance?” Seongwoo tries but it is overshadowed by a loud clap of thunder. Everyone jolts in surprise. Even the innkeeper who watches from a distance.

The skies open and it begins to pour.

An employee approaches the innkeeper. “This sudden rain is out of the ordinary,” he says, trying to keep it quiet but it is still loud enough to be overheard, “the Kims have cancelled their reservation with us. It seems that water has risen so high at the bridge that no one can get through.”

Seongwoo looks at their direction before turning to Minhyun. “If the bridge is unable to be crossed that means…”

“My sincerest apologies,” the innkeeper says as he approaches the two. “I will arrange rooms for you to stay in.” He bows deeply. Seongwoo and Minhyun return the gesture, grateful.

 

 

☾

 

 

“You’re supposed to see the courtyard’s pretty autumn leaves from this window,” Minhyun remarks with a hint of wistfulness as he stares out of the large glass windows. The view outside is a blur of colors, like lenses unable to be focused due to the sheer amount of rainfall. They sit on the couch facing the courtyard.

“This is a refined inn, isn’t it?” Seongwoo adds, and Minhyun hums in agreement. “The garden is probably pretty too,” Seongwoo says before he remembers and adds: “what was it that you were reading so intensely earlier?”

Minhyun smiles, turning to face Seongwoo. “It was a document about the mysteries surrounding this area. Apparently this place is close to a path that spirits and gods often take, so strange incidents are frequent here.” He takes another look at the courtyard. “In this inn there is a mysterious divider, made of fabric, that has been passed down from ancient times.”

“The one hanging outside the entrance of this inn?” Seongwoo asks, curious, “what about it?”

“Yes,” Minhyun nods before his smile turns sheepish, “that’s the part I didn’t get to. It was too hard to read.” He stills. Seongwoo looks out at the courtyard and for a second a face appears in the windows. He nearly lurches back in his seat. Seongwoo chalks it up to his imagination.

 

 

 

The same thing happens again when they walk through the hallway. A staircase appears and Seongwoo sees a pair of legs walking up the steps, but when he looks again it is just a normal wall.

Later that evening he sees a floating towel in the hall.

Before dinner, there are a strangely large amount of slippers arranged neatly at the entranceway of the dining hall, unable to match the total of registered guests in the inn.

When Seongwoo looks at Minhyun for answers, Minhyun shakes his head.

“There seems to be a massive amount of barriers and talismans in place to prevent spirits from getting past the entrance,” Minhyun divulges once they are alone in their room, “only the ones that are considered _guests_ can enter, from what I can judge.”

Seongwoo decides to take comfort in that.

 

 

☾

 

 

Seongwoo’s doing some research on his phone, hair still slightly damp from the bath when Minhyun emerges, awfully silent.

“What?” Seongwoo asks, looking up from behind his glasses.

Minhyun clears his throat, toweling his hair aggressively. “Nothing,” he says before adding: “did you always have glasses?”

“Yeah,” Seongwoo sounds, chuckling, “it was ingrained into me to wear contacts before wearing glasses became a trend. Still can’t get used to that.”

Minhyun nods, silent and remains so as he blow-dries his own hair.

 

 

 

Minhyun eventually takes a seat next to him, getting a glimpse at the content of what Seongwoo was browsing over Seongwoo’s shoulder. There’s a brief moment where Seongwoo feels the ghost of Minhyun’s fingers reaching for his glasses or to sweep his bangs out of his forehead.

It never happens.

Minhyun repositions himself so that his chin rests on the back of his hand, giving his undivided attention to Seongwoo’s phone.

 

 

☾

 

 

They lie in silence, Seongwoo scrambling over topics he could potentially bring up to engage in a conversation but then realizes Minhyun could be asleep. He blames himself for getting so worked up over the notion of sharing a room for the first time.

The rain continues to pour outside. Seongwoo almost laments not bringing his pipefox with him.

It reminds him of the unnatural rains, of his exposure to this world of Minhyun’s, and oddly of Jonghyun’s place. Tranquility, he reflects, or the sense of comfort this inn provides. He’s come so far.

They’ve come so far.

“Are you asleep?” he asks, quietly, and gets a soft grunt in reply. It brings a smile to his lips.

“When we get back,” Seongwoo begins, “would you grant my wish?”

The room falls silent for a while, sending Seongwoo into the verge of panic. He turns towards Minhyun who's staring at the ceiling. Seongwoo scratches the back of his neck, waiting for the sentence.

Minhyun turns towards Seongwoo, meeting his eye, swallowing once before he offers a smile. It seems wavering in the glow of the moon, filtered through the window.

“I shall.”

 _Thank you_ Seongwoo mouths and Minhyun nods once in acknowledgement.

 

 

☾

 

 

The room becomes pitch black half way through the night. The three pieces of cloth flutter, not unlike the divider at the entranceway. A face appears from under one of them.

Seongwoo sits up. His yell startles Minhyun, making him sit up.

“Nothing,” Seongwoo says, shaking his head, embarrassed. “Probably just a dream.”

Minhyun nods groggily before settling back down and gently telling Seongwoo to go back to sleep. “If you get scared,” there’s a lilt of amusement to his voice as he cracks an eye open to observe Seongwoo's face, “you can hold my hand.”

Seongwoo takes it.

 

 

☾

 

 

The atmosphere of the inn had shifted. What once provided a sense of comfort now feels off kilter. Probably why Seongwoo decided to divulge his dream to Minhyun, over breakfast, who frowns.

They walk to the entrance afterwards to take a look at the fabric.

“The one in my dream had a different color,” Seongwoo remarks as the owner passes by.

“What are you talking about?” the innkeeper asks kindly, “something about the divider?”

“Yes,” Minhyun says, smiling kindly as he changes the topic easily, “it’s so pretty and I've taken such a liking to it that if there is something that resembles it, I would like to purchase one.”

The innkeeper chuckles, clearly pleased. “It’s unfortunate but it is special. It has been passed down at this inn for generations and I heard that the one who printed it has recently passed away.”

“…I see,” Minhyun comments, “it must really be important then.”

“Yes,” the innkeeper agrees, “because it also has history.” He turns to look at the divider, fond as he relays: “another name for this inn is the _temporary inn of gods_. It is said, long ago, spirits and beings that weren’t human would stay here.”

“But isn’t that dangerous?” Seongwoo remarks, “what if something happened to the other guests while there was a spirit?”

The innkeeper chuckles again. “It’s just a legend. If a dangerous spirit tried to enter, as you said, the divider would’ve been there. Dangerous spirits do not usually enter here. Spirits who are like protective gods have been regulars of this inn since antiquity, and they were the only ones aware of its existence. By the entranceway, the divider carrying the family crest of this house hangs until evening. It became customary to turn it over to the reverse side, where a protective symbol is drawn to ward off suspicious spirits that roam at night.”

“However, due to the sudden storm yesterday” the innkeeper continues, “the employee in charge of reversing it last night forgot…” He shakes his head and laughs once more. “It’s just an old legend, please don’t worry.” He reassures despite looking worried himself. “Somehow, it seemed gloomy in here since this morning. Things like light bulbs burning out and the decorative flowers withering. Something felt strange and the person in charge worries that it was their fault…” the man trails off, looking into the distance. “I really think it should be fine for us to stop doing that, but since I was young I was told that I must commit to the practice because this was a place where gods and spirits would visit.” He smiles, fond once more. “No matter how much time passes, I still adore and yearn for these beings called spirits.”

Minhyun’s expression is soft when he speaks. “Please continue this practice if possible,” he says, firm, “there must be a reason why it has been passed down for so many generations. There could be an agreement you’re not aware of.”

The man looks surprised at the sudden remark but then smiles and agrees. “Yes, I suppose. That might be true,” he says before asking them to enjoy their stay at the inn to the best of their ability and apologizes once more for the inconvenience.

 

 

 

Rumors begin to circulate. Other workers of the inn begin to whisper about odd happenings like a vase in a room being broken as if it had been smashed repeatedly.

Minhyun’s brows knit.

“We should repay them somehow,” Seongwoo says, “let me help you.”

Minhyun nods. His brows loosening just a bit as he offers Seongwoo a smile of gratitude.

 

 

 

There are sounds of footsteps resounding in the hall. The two sprint off on a chase until they arrive in front of a closet.

Minhyun pulls it open and it reveals a staircase.

Footsteps make their way down and they both pause. A face appears, peeking out from behind the closet door. A kind one that warns, “humans, please do not enter.” But the suddenness of it makes both Seongwoo and Minhyun fall back in surprise as the spirits slides the door shut.

When Minhyun opens it again, it reveals an ordinary closet.

Minhyun shakes his head. “My abilities probably made it appear for a moment,” he apologizes as Seongwoo continues to clutch onto Minhyun’s sleeve to stabilize his pounding heart.

 

 

 

They arrive back at the seating area in front of the large panes of glass.

Minhyun looks out. The rain is so heavy this time almost nothing can be seen of the garden in front. “At this rate, the autumn trees in the courtyard will probably lose their leaves,” his expression is sad as he continues, “they’re the pride of this inn, after all. One of the literature pieces displayed in the exhibition mentioned how a lot of spirits in the area would visit during this time to admire that beautiful scenery. Maybe the spirit in the closet came to see the autumn leaves too.” He pauses. “This inn really has been loved since long ago, hasn’t it?”

There’s an odd figure pressed against the glass muttering over and over again _this is upsetting_ , _this is upsetting_.

Seongwoo meets his eyes.

The figure who looks like he’s dressed in a blanket of furs with only a head and arms that are visible flies over to where Seongwoo is, staring down at him. “Can you see me, kid?” he bellows, towering over Seongwoo.

“Are you a guest?” Seongwoo questions, blunt.

“Indeed,” the spirit says. “You see, I came here because I love seeing the autumn leaves. That’s why to those who’ve caused the trouble for this inn, I won’t forgive them.” He backs off, eyes narrowing as he asks: “So which are you? A guest? Or an intruder?”

Minhyun bows politely, drawing the spirit’s attention away from Seongwoo and towards him. “Forgive us, for assuming otherwise. But we are guests, just like you.”

The spirit is about to say something when the rain stops. Everyone turns towards the window as the sky clears, revealing shades of yellow, orange, and red and countless of trees that decorate the courtyard. A breathtaking sight.

The spirit returns to the glass, pressing his hands against it as he speaks about it with pride as if this was his own garden he was showing off: “this is the scenery of my regular inn. It’s splendid, isn’t it?”

Seongwoo can’t help but agree.

 

 

 

“The reverse side of the divider is a charm to fend off evil spirits. One must have entered when they forgot to turn it over in the evening,” the spirit explains, “the owner from three generations ago had been a careless one, but the current, thirteenth generation has always been diligent.”

“You really have been a regular since long ago,” Minhyun comments and it elicits a chuckle from the old spirit.

“Well, the owners don’t really know much about us.” He then recalls fondly: “But I’ve spoken with the current thirteenth generation before…” He trails off, taking a trip down memory lane. “It was just a trick played by the weather and it only happened once. He even mistook me for one of the normal guests.” He's smiling as he relays the last part: “That fated meeting is another reason why I want to protect this inn.”

He looks at Minhyun. “That’s where you come in. I need you to do something a spirit like myself cannot do,” he says, “we need to cast the ‘spell of banishment’ on the evil spirit that has slipped in, in order to drive them away.”

As Minhyun was entranced in the conversation and the instructions given to him by the spirit, an odd tapping draws Seongwoo’s attention. He looks around, trying to find the source.

The repetition of the same sound causes Minhyun to look up. He sees a hand knocking at one of the lights, directly above Seongwoo. It knocks at it strongly once more.

Minhyun dives, tackling Seongwoo.

The light shatters behind him.

“How dare you!” the spirit they were talking to roars as he flies towards the sinister thing that had tried to attack a human.

Minhyun clenches his fists, staring at where the spirit was. Seongwoo frantically checks Minhyun’s knuckles for scrapes, ignoring his own as Minhyun mutters: “now it’s targeting humans too, how distasteful.”

“We should hurry,” Seongwoo concludes once he’s assured that Minhyun is fine. “You received instructions right? What do you want me to do?”

 

 

 

It doesn’t take long to craft the spell of banishment between the two of them. Minhyun deciphers the correct talisman and Seongwoo copies it to the best of his ability.

When they rush back to the seating area, the old spirit is nowhere to be found. There are other guests, spirits from the look of it, who are in the garden, admiring the trees up close. By the windows is the innkeeper himself.

“The garden is beautiful,” Minhyun remarks, making polite conversation, “the guests in the garden seem to be having a lot of fun as well.”

The innkeeper’s eyes widen at the last comment, looking back at the garden puzzled. “Guests in the garden? Could it be that you…” he turns back to look at Minhyun then laughs and shakes his head. “It’s nothing. But actually, I once experienced a mysterious incident.” The man recalls, fondness in his eyes as he retells the story about the meeting with the old spirit. How he had hated working at the inn because other children got to play all they wanted to but he had to help out. Then, one day, he found a guest who was muddying the floors of the inn. Panicked, he scolded the elderly guest and steered him to a chair in front of these same windows and asked him to stay put as he prepared water to wipe his feet clean. The guest had. And as the child innkeeper-to-be wiped the guest's feet, the odd looking man told him countless stories about each tree in the courtyard.

 

(  _See, that Nanking cherry was planted by your grandfather._

_That leopard plant was from the wife of the ninth generation._

_The water lilies on the pond were by the seventh generation, who loved frogs._

_The sixth generation was the one that brought chocolate vines here._

_The nest box on the persimmon tree was made by your father._

_It's so much fun, thirteenth generation._

_This garden is so much fun._ )

 

“I’m sorry for telling you such a strange story,” the innkeeper apologizes by the end of it. His eyes remain fond yet distant. Without anyone noticing, the old spirit had appeared, standing to the side as the innkeeper had recounted that story. The innkeeper continues to look out into his garden as he remarks: “but ever since that day I somehow grew to be proud of this garden and inn. After all, there was someone who would look at the garden with such loving eyes. That’s why I too want to protect this place.”

 

 

 

And so with renewed fervor, they begin to hunt down the rampant spirit, chasing it down halls, through rooms, trying to corner it.

It winds up in the garden. The talisman in Seongwoo’s hand. The cowardly creature clings to the largest tree in the garden with such ferocity it threatened to break the branch.

Seongwoo still can’t reach him.

The old spirit rushes forward then, despite Minhyun’s protest, snatches the talisman from Seongwoo’s hand and presses it against the evil spirit’s forehead.

A thunderous clap fills the atmosphere.

 

 

 

Seongwoo wakes up outside of the inn, where the divider hangs and flaps under the wind. The old spirit lies next to him.

“Well,” the spirit remarks as he looks around, situating himself, “that is to be expected. I touched the spell of banishment, after all.”

Seongwoo bows his head. It wasn't supposed to be like this. “It’s thanks to you that the spirit has been forced out to a place much further than here,” says in the end, solemn.

“I see…” the spirit echoes, “that’s good.”

A maple leaf falls and the spirit looks up, trying to peer past the high walls. “I can still see a bit of the garden’s beauty from here,” he chuckles, “I may not be able to enter anymore, but I will still visit the front of the inn, and look at that beautiful garden from out here.”

“I have always viewed it from inside, so seeing it from here is so refreshing, it’s fun,” the spirit says, optimistic, but Seongwoo remains unconvinced.

There’s a trace of longing, a trace of sadness, and a large portion of resolution in those eyes. It tugs at Seongwoo’s heart.

Minhyun emerges from within the inn, relieved when he sees the both of them. “What’s the matter?” he asks, reading the expression on Seongwoo’s face before turning to look at the garden from beyond the walls.

He faces the old spirit. “Even though you got forced out of the grounds when the spell was activated, the talisman works similarly to the divider with its both sides. As long as you don’t touch the attachment side, the spell won’t affect you.” Minhyun smiles kindly. “That’s how that talisman works.”

 

 

 

The old spirit tentatively parts the fabric with a hand and steps through.

“I entered…” his voice is soft, teetering on an edge of emotions as he breaks down. “Thank goodness…” he covers his face with his hands repeating the same phrase again and again.

Seongwoo can’t help but rejoice at the turn of events.

 

☾

 

 

It is late when they get back to Minhyun’s place so he offers Seongwoo the same room as always to stay in.

Minhyun is leaning against a pillar, staring at his own courtyard and the plants Seonho had introduced into his garden, while Seongwoo sits besides him, doing the same thing.

“I wonder why,” Seongwoo comments as he thinks about how late it is and the eventual course of the night, “I never meet the one I wish to see in my dreams?”

Minhyun smiles and answers with a cryptic: “we never meet the ones we wish to see in dreams.”

He turns his head, meeting Seongwoo’s gaze.

“Your wish?” he asks, reminded of the conversation from last night but is met with a firm shake of the head.

“It’s late,” Seongwoo remarks, getting on his feet and stretching.

As Seongwoo begins to leave Minhyun comments: “the night is still young. What a pity it is to sleep it away.”

Seongwoo stills.

“Who says the nights are meant for sleeping?” he says, tilting his head. He’s not sure what compels him to do so when he reaches out, cupping Minhyun’s cheek. Minhyun leans into his touch. Seongwoo’s mouth grows dry.

He leans in, lips centimeters away from Minhyun’s when he asks: “may I kiss you?”

“Please,” Minhyun breathes.

Seongwoo closes the distance, pressing his lips against Minhyun’s. Something in him rises. His chest feels like it is on the verge of combusting, swelling to a point that makes him dizzy, leaves him breathless.

He breaks it off to remind himself to breathe. Moving higher to kiss Minhyun’s forehead, uttering a soft _good night_ against his skin.

The pounding in his chest is probably audible to all. Seongwoo takes a step back. Minhyun’s eyes are closed. When they open again, they are unwavering, locking Seongwoo's gaze with his own. Minhyun covers the hand cupping his cheek with his own. He gently lifts it, a millimeter off his skin, turns his head so that his lips brushes against the inside of Seongwoo’s palm and utters a _good night_ in return.

It takes all of Seongwoo’s willpower to return to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
>   * Chapter title was taken from [this quote](https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/336567-the-pale-stars-were-sliding-into-their-places-the-whispering). The title is a fitting summary for this chapter.
>   * Kahi's dwelling was based off of [this](http://www.nvusdesigns.com/interior/minimalist-design-house-in-hyojadong-south-korea/attachment/minimalist-design-house-hyojadong-south-korea-13/).
>   * Koi are beautiful. Check out the varieties [here](https://blueridgekoi.com/koi-goldfish-resources/koi-variety-guide/).
>   * The amber/dragon egg story was taken from XXXHolic Rei. If you want to read it, read it after XXXHolic and Tsubasa. P.S. grab a tissue box if you do .
>   * The little thing Seongwoo got for Minhyun looks like [this](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/73/46/57/73465772571e7735a1aa49038db706db.jpg).
>   * The divider/fabric referred to during the inn section is a _[noren](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Noren)_. It just didn't feel appropriate to use Japanese terms in a fic set in Korea, revolving around Koreans.
>   * In my defense... I have none. I just wanted to include [this look](https://twitter.com/Ongforyou0825/status/918288808617041920) somewhere.
>   * Once again most of the stories in this chapter are taken from Natsume Yuujinchou. Especially the pond (ch 19.1) and the inn (ch 85 & 86). The section for the inn is nearly word for word, which pains me.
> 

> 
> Once again I apologize for not replying to comments. I read them all and hoard them like a dragon.
> 
> I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading this chapter. The next update won't be till... next week probably.


	15. Tender is the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: suicide ideation

A bird chirps, high above in a tree, overlooking the courtyard. It is spring. Some trees have began to flower. Most of them shy, hiding in their buds. The bird sings its pretty little tune and soon is joined by another.

Seongwoo isn’t surprised when he’s the last one to be up. A common occurrence, he assumes from the few nights he slept over. There’s a bowl of rice and five small platters of side dishes, covered with a thin plastic wrap. Seongwoo smiles. The bowl is cool to the touch, but lingering warmth remains towards the bottom. Seonho has gone out of his way again.

 

 

 

Seongwoo takes extra care to clean up after he’s done.

 

 

☾

 

 

Seongwoo stands in the center of the courtyard, taking another glimpse at the abode that's starting to feel like a second home. The edge of the table bench presses into his calves. Rectangular stone steps lead their way from it to the entrance of the house. Three more elevated steps before entering the house. Rooftops of giwa, light grey, contrasting with the dark wood of the walls. Some windows are reminiscent of the past in their intricate patterns. There are also stone steps that connect the front gate to the entrance of the house, on the verge of being swallowed by the grass surrounding each slab. Trees and bushes stand near the interior of the wall that separates this shop from the rest of the world.

“Are you ready?” Minhyun asks, drawing Seongwoo’s attention away from the house and to the robe draped across his shoulders.

A breeze picks up, stirring the leaves. Seongwoo takes another survey of the courtyard. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose,” he says, offering a smile.

“You could alter this space if you want,” Minhyun suggests quietly.

It is met by a firm shake of Seongwoo’s head. “I like it the way it is,” he supplies.

Minhyun provides a small smile of his own.

 

 

 

Seongwoo kneels across from where Minhyun is situated, far too nervous to fidget, far too stiff to be natural. There’s a hint of concern in Minhyun’s eyes but Seongwoo is too preoccupied.

Not that it was easy to arrive at this decision, but it is somehow harder to make it out.

Minhyun remains patient.

Seongwoo closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and rolls his shoulders; a small preparation ritual.

Minhyun takes it as a signal and prompts: “what do you wish me to do?” The same words of the land inbetween, to a girl tangled in strings; on the first day Seongwoo met him.

Tension seeps out of his shoulders as Seongwoo smiles to himself, looking at his hands.

“To stay by your side for as long as there is blood still coursing through your veins.”

Seongwoo looks up, meeting Minhyun’s gaze as he says the last part.  
( As if he hadn’t meticulously gone over the phrasing.  
As if he hadn’t spent days mulling. )

He’s met with silence. Brief.

“…the price.” It comes out as a whisper.

“I know,” Seongwoo replies simply. “My life.” He shrugs and cocks his head to the side, providing what is hopefully a reassuring smile. “Tethered to yours. What else could I ask for?”

Minhyun’s gaze is heavy. The silence weighs. Seongwoo tries to stay perfectly still.

What Minhyun says next isn’t what Seongwoo expected:

“Can you give me a few days before I reply?”

And who is Seongwoo to demand otherwise? Seongwoo nods, silent.

 

 

☾

 

 

Seongwoo returns to an empty apartment and an equally empty fridge. His last ramen provisions were probably depleted weeks ago and forgot to replenish them after being spoiled under someone else’s roof.

It’s no one’s fault but his own.

 

 

 

He’s on the way home from the convenient store when he spots a familiar figure. The illumination from the streetlight is poor, leaving behind a vague sense of déjà vu as the individual walks by. Instinct inclines him to follow, regardless of the bags in both hands.

 

 

 

The figure stops in front of a house. The lights are still on. A faint chatter can be heard from its occupants.

Despite the curtains pulled over windows, the light is bright enough for Seongwoo to recognize the individual.

Seonho looks at the window with longing.

 

 

 

Seongwoo continues to trail after Seonho, keeping his distance, hiding when necessary to avoid being caught.

 

 

 

Seonho pauses under a tree. The last of its petals are about to fall. Pale pink, almost white in the dark. It probably was breathtaking in full bloom.

Seonho continues.

 

 

 

He arrives in front of a school and walks right through the gate. Seongwoo curses under his breath.

Under normal circumstances he would have left but his gut feeling presses him to pursue. With a sigh, he ties the bags and throws them over to the other side, unwilling to leave them behind. He climbs the wall afterwards.

A faint glow can be seen from behind the gym.

 

 

 

Seonho stands in the center of a swarm of lights, kin to fireflies as they dance, but Seongwoo knows better. The specks of light rise into the night sky and fade like embers. They spread out in a lotus like pattern. And from where they originate, the outline of Seonho’s feet can barely be seen.

Fear gripes Seongwoo. He drops his bags.

Relief floods him for the brief second his hands make contact with Seonho’s shoulders. They fall. The eerie glow disappears without a trace.

“How did you—” Seonho asks, bewildered.

“What do you think you are doing?” Seongwoo demands, fingers digging into Seonho’s shoulders, giving him a shake.

“What do you think I’m doing?” Seonho snaps defensively. “Getting rid of an inconvenience.”

Seongwoo’s eyes widen. He gives Seonho another firm shake as Seonho tries to brush him off. “What do you mean?”

“You said it yourself earlier today didn’t you? You want to spend the rest of eternity with _Minhyun_ ,” Seonho almost shouts, shoving one of Seongwoo’s arm off his shoulder. “I know he wants it too, which means I’ll become a nuisance. He’s just far too kind to mention it,” Seonho laughs, bitter. “Like how he left me a way out of this state of mine,” he gestures at all the lights before.

“I didn’t mean without you,” Seongwoo says, voice quavering. Seongwoo’s hands are still clenched in fury, in rage, mostly at himself. “Do you honestly think _I_ would be happy? _He_ would be happy? At the expense of yours?” He can’t keep the anger from his voice. His tone rises with each question as he glares at the boy before him through a film of water that has welled.

“We won’t,” Seongwoo says as he slumps, defeated. “When I made my wish I saw you there too,” he confesses, regretting. A selfish desire causing all of this, then why speak of it in the first place?

“I had thought…” Seonho’s voice breaks as he joins Seongwoo, tearing his gaze away.

“Without consideration for anyone else, just yourself,” Seongwoo starts, gently, “what do _you_ want?”

“To stay,” Seonho utters, “with both of you.” He slumps forward, forehead leaning against Seongwoo’s chest. Seongwoo’s shirt dampens.

 

 

 

They are still sitting in front of the doors to Seonho’s middle school gymnasium, eyes puffy. Probably red too if there was enough light to see it. Seongwoo laughs and Seonho joins him because they probably look ridiculous. Neither of them cares.

“Let’s make a pact,” Seongwoo suggests, “after we get back, with Minhyun. We may not have been born by the same womb but we will be buried on the same day. You know, like in the _Romance of the Three Kingdoms_.”

“I think you mean _we do not seek to be born on the same year, month, or day, only wish to die on the same year, month, and day_. Besides, they weren’t romantically involved with each other,” Seonho deadpans, “did you even read it?”

Seongwoo shrugs. “I don’t know. I fell asleep in class.” Which earns him a smack on his shoulder blades.

Seongwoo mouths an _ow_ and rubs the spot for good measure before turning to Seonho with a smile and says: “let’s go home.”

Seonho returns it with a nod and a smile of his own.

 

 

 

Far above, a raven blinks.

 

 

☾

 

 

“Thank you,” Minhyun says, averting Seongwoo’s gaze when he welcomes Seonho home.

Seongwoo nods, solemn.

 

 

☾

 

 

“How much of it did you see?” Seonho asks once the front gate is closed and locked and Minhyun remains pensive, sullen. Three years isn’t a time span that can be brushed off easily. If Minhyun knew his patterns then the same can be said for Seonho.

Minhyun sits at the edge of the entrance and invites Seonho to occupy the vacant area next to him.

“Most of it,” Minhyun answers once Seonho sits.

Seonho nods, quiet.

When he opens his mouth to apologize Minhyun shakes his head. “I would’ve understood it if you left, respected it too. But I would also be devastated.” Minhyun tries to smile but fails. “I’m glad you chose to stay.”

Minhyun reaches over to brush Seonho’s bangs from his eyes as Seonho’s shoulders begin to shake.

“It might sound cruel of me,” Minhyun starts, voice gentle as he recalls, “but I’ve seen other worlds where ‘we’ exist. You are still alive. Sometimes a client, always in passing. I prefer this.”

He smiles, heartfelt, and this time it stays. Fingers still brushing Seonho’s hair as Seonho wraps his arms around Minhyun’s waist. Minhyun holds him as Seonho’s sobs fill the air. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
>   * I have mentioned it before that Minhyun's place looks like the hanok in _Live Up to Your Name_. [Here's](http://d263ao8qih4miy.cloudfront.net/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/LiveUptoYourName13-00033.jpg) a rough idea because I'm too lazy to make my own screencaps.
>   * [Romance of the Three Kingdoms](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Romance_of_the_Three_Kingdoms) is a historical novel about China, widely adapted and referenced. I doubt it'll be taught at Korean schools but indulge me for a second.
>   * The line Seonho quotes is much prettier in the original language (不求同年同月同日生，只願同年同月同日死). Something always gets lost in translation.
>   * For those who enjoy manga and story telling, check out [A Night of a Thousand Dreams](http://kissmanga.com/Manga/A-Night-of-a-Thousand-Dreams). There are some interesting interpretations, one of them including Romance of the Three Kingdoms, all including a homoerotic subtext. It's the reason I mentioned the historical novel at all.
> 

> 
> Thank you for all the comments on last chapter! I would say trust me... but look what I did in this chapter.


	16. Ten Miles of Peach Blossoms

“In some cultures, peach blossoms signify purity,” Seongwoo remarks as he glances at the tree in full bloom above him. Five pink petals neatly arranged, each bud clustered with two more. “It’s why Momotarou comes from a peach and purges the world of the evil demon king.” The wind blows, shaking the branches, causing a petal or two to drift. “In others, the peach signifies longevity. Which one is true?”

Minhyun smiles into his tea, hiding the curve of his lips behind the porcelain. “Why can’t it be both? Because of its purification properties, it can live for a long time.”

He sets down the cup.

“Hold out your hand.”

Seongwoo does as he’s told, puzzled.

A ring drops into his palm.

“What is this?” Seongwoo asks, trying to ignore the heat that rises, flushing his skin.

“A promise and a reply,” Minhyun says. He chuckles when he sees Seongwoo tentatively pick it up and try to put it on his fourth finger: It doesn’t fit. Minhyun reaches out, inviting Seongwoo to place his hand in Minhyun’s. “Technically, it’s a thimble,” Minhyun says as he slides the thimble onto Seongwoo’s finger, “crafted from the spider’s payment. I didn’t have the time to fashion it into something else.”

It fits.

“It takes a different shape for each individual,” Minhyun adds, “I wonder what it will become for you.”

Seongwoo studies the thimble. Wooden with a small carving of an arrow that curves around. A wisp of smoke escapes from the ring. A bow appears in his hand.

Seongwoo’s eyes widen in surprise as he turns to Minhyun. “Did you know…?”

Judging from the expression on Minhyun’s face, probably not. Minhyun waves with his hand. Something shatters.

A blob of darkness with a thousand eyes looms over the wall of the hanok. A second later, ten hands shoot from it, reaching beyond the wall, coming in their direction.

Seongwoo does the one thing he hasn’t done in a few years: heft his bow, pull back, and shoot. Wisps of smoke collect at his fingertip, gathering to form the semblance of an arrow as they speed out and strike the monstrosity in the eye. The blob dissipates.

Seongwoo looks down at the bow in his hand. “What is this?”

Minhyun brushes his robe from the debris of the dark matter as he answers: “A tool for purification made from the wood of a peach tree. It embodies the power of the wearer.” He turns to meet Seongwoo’s eyes. “It’ll protect you too.”

“You can see but you can’t defend. If you wish to stay by my side…” Minhyun pauses, correcting himself, “if I want you to stay by my side this is my price.”

“By promise you meant…?” Seongwoo asks, gesturing at the thimble.

Minhyun nods in encouragement, holding his hand out. Seongwoo mirrors Minhyun’s action, pressing his palm against Minhyun’s, pushing their hands together. Minhyun smiles, slides his fingers into the crevices between Seongwoo’s, locking them.

“I will grant your wish.”

Seongwoo winces at the gash he feels in his palm as if something had sliced flesh open. Red strings blossom out from both of them, surrounding them in a tangle of crimson cords. The ribbons seem to dance before they disappear. The last few wisps coil around their pinkies, connecting them.

Minhyun releases his hand. The scarlet thread fades.

 

 

☾

 

 

“Turn around,” Minhyun commands the moment Seongwoo steps through the gate, firmly. “Don’t look,” he warns when Seongwoo tries to turn his head and adds: “I need you to do something for me.”

That line makes Seongwoo compliant as he stands, staring at the gate he entered through. He feels a hand on his arm and when he turns he finds Seonho steering him, forcing him to take steps backwards.

“Look at the gate,” Seonho huffs and Seongwoo does as he’s told, grumbling without meaning it.

The edge of the outdoor bench digs into his legs. Seonho stops there and then disappears off to do other chores, Seongwoo assumes as he stands there dumbly, waiting for his next set of instructions.

“Do you have the thimble?” Minhyun asks as if Seongwoo hasn’t kept it on him since it was given to him.

Seongwoo nods and places it on his finger, drawing out the bow.

“What am I supposed to do?”

Moments later he feels a body behind his own. His eyes covered by a hand as Minhyun leans forward, lips brushing against the shell of Seongwoo’s ear and says: “Trust me and shoot.”

It sends a shiver down Seongwoo’s spine. He lifts his bow, feels the arrow forming, and sends it out as he hears the shatter of another barrier.

Minhyun steps back. Seongwoo turns around to see Minhyun, protectively keeping his arms around nothing and assumes the shopkeeper had sealed his sight temporarily.

Rain begins to fall. The thing Seongwoo has shot as has begun to regroup. Its shrieks can be heard as it gathers meters in the air then rains down with fervor, forming hands, trying to snatch the thing Minhyun is shielding.

Seongwoo fires. Again and again and again. The shrill shrieks fill the air; a blood curling sound.

“How long?” Seongwoo questions, unblinkingly as he pulls back once more.

“Until the summons come.”

Seongwoo releases another volley of arrows as they spread out, counteracting the dark hands.

He hears a sound of ripping from behind him. Minhyun seems to be cut by the thing it was protecting. Long gashes in his clothes as blood seeps from it.

“Keep shooting,” Minhyun commands, smiling softly down at whatever is seated in his embrace.

Seongwoo grits his teeth and turns around to face the largest hand he’s ever seen. He gives it all he’s got. It pierces through, dispersing the darkness.

The rain still continues to pour and Seongwoo looks up at the sky. “Is it dispersed?” he asks, cautious as he looks around.

“No.”

A smaller hand darts out. Fast. Seongwoo shoots but it keeps avoiding, navigating its way through the gaps as it makes its way towards Minhyun and the invisible client. Minhyun turns, shielding the client from the dark hand with his body. Seonho stands not far behind them.

Seongwoo shoots.

It shatters the bottle of liquor in front of Seonho, beside Minhyun. The contents spill out. Where it hits the dark hand it hisses and the hand dissipates with a dwindling screech.

“Why did you shoot the bottle?” Minhyun asks.

“The crimson string around the bottle’s mouth is a sealing technique, which means it has the power to purify,” Seongwoo answers stiffly.

“Well done,” Minhyun praises.

The skies clear. Seems to have part way for the thing in the sky. A thin strip, like the thing one would see in photographs of the Milky Way. When it approaches, Seongwoo sees the bridge.

Minhyun turns to the thing next to it. “It has come to get you.”

“Not mother?”

“No,” Minhyun answers and provides a smile. “But I’m sure next time it will be. So cross the bridge and wait for next time.”

A wisp of smoke crosses. The bridge recedes. Leaving a trail of light like a shooting star.

 

 

 

Seongwoo turns around, only to see Minhyun stumble and catches him before Minhyun touches the ground. He steers Minhyun to the bench and forces him to sit as Seonho runs into the house, gathering first aid material.

“If you weren’t exhausting your magic by ensuring I couldn’t see the child,” Seongwoo notes as he takes Minhyun’s hands, studying the gashes, “you probably could have defended yourself better.”

Minhyun remains silent, only smiling as a reply.

Seonho pushes the kit towards Seongwoo. Seongwoo digs through its contents for antiseptics, while knowing Minhyun was probably in the process of healing himself.

He swabs at the gashes.

“Why can’t you trust me more?”

“That child couldn’t be born,” Minhyun explains, “the child’s form…” he shakes his head. “I thought it would be best. But I’m glad it came here.” Minhyun’s eyes are soft. “Because children who keep losing their way are caught. They die without learning anything. The things that broke into this shop are a conglomeration of things. Bitterness. Pain. Sadness. Hatred. Regret. They want to devour those children’s hearts because of that innocence. But if it had been taken there would have been no next time for the child.”

“I understand that,” Seongwoo replies, “but you don’t have to carry these burdens alone.” He looks up, meeting Minhyun’s eyes. “You have me.”

Minhyun’s eyes soften. “Indeed. But I was afraid,” he confesses, “that I will have once again dragged you into something you didn't want.”

“I'm not the same person I was a year ago,” Seongwoo reminds.

A smile plays on Minhyun's lips as he nods.

“Next time,” Seongwoo starts, gaze unwavering, “will you let me shoulder them with you?”

“Yes.”

Seongwoo brushes his lips against the back of Minhyun’s hand to hold him to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * The chapter title was taken from this [三生三世十里桃花](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eternal_Love_\(TV_series\)). It literally translates to _Three Lives, Three Worlds, Ten Miles of Peach Blossoms_. A fitting title, in my opinion.
>   * Other titles I debated over include [We Bloom Until We Ache](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BEMaH9Sm3lQ), [Dance of the Thirteenth Month](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VKuvYk-FsPM), and [Take Me As Much As You Want Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RGYIpwovVsc). It speaks to the songs I was listening to throughout this entire process. Speaking of which, stream Fantasy!!!
> 



	17. A Prayer For Which No Words Exist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My kouhai deals with all my typos and rough drafts, I can't thank her enough.

“I received the invitation from Jonghyun, but you’re not here for that are you?” Minki greets as a paper bird in the palm of his hand circles around his head once. It chirps, spreads its wings, and goes up in flames. No matter how many times Seongwoo has experienced this, it still remains magical.

“Yeah,” Seongwoo echoes as a response to both parts, “Jonghyun also sent me one and I had assumed…” Seongwoo trails off. “He doesn’t seem like the type to leave someone out,” Seongwoo finishes with a shrug.

“And that’s why you are here?” Minki prompts, tilting his head to study Seongwoo but the way his lips curl give away how much he has guessed at already.

“Last time,” Seongwoo starts, reluctantly, “you said Minhyun would only drink two types of alcohol—”

“ _Manna_ from the ghost procession and chrysanthemum wine,” Minki finishes for Seongwoo with a grin. “I would instruct you but there’s someone who makes chrysanthemum wine much better than I ever could.”

 

 

☾

 

 

“Did Minki say he was going to help with preparations?” Dongho asks upon the sound of approaching footsteps, staring out at the yard where they had grown up in. He doesn’t need to turn around to see that Jonghyun is standing by the ledge of the pond just like he is, admiring the same view, waiting for noon.

“He hasn’t replied,” Jonghyun says.

“But knowing him, he’s probably going to send someone in his stead,” Sungwoon interjects, dusting off his hands as he approaches from the kitchen area.

“Hmm,” Dongho sounds, pensive.

Jonghyun chuckles before giving Dongho a firm pat on his shoulder. “We’ll make do.”

 

 

 

Seongwoo bursts through the front gates moments later.

 

 

 

It’s bizarre. Three pairs of eyes turn to him at the same time. One with warmth, the other with subtle amusement, and the last one makes his emotions clear as day with a displeased frown. Seongwoo reminds himself to take caution when asking Minki for favors. There’s always a catch. This time, he’s being judged and evaluated ( again ).

He steels himself and starts with a: “Minki said that you could teach me how to make chrysanthemum wine.”

“I already started with the preparations,” Dongho replies.

“But we still need someone to retrieve it,” Jonghyun reminds, gently, before turning to smile at Seongwoo apologetically.

“How?” Seongwoo inquires.

“Sleep.” Is all Dongho says before he turns around and walks inside. Sungwoon shakes his head in disapproval and Jonghyun is trying to hold himself back from laughing. Seongwoo’s face remains that of bewilderment.

 

 

 

Seongwoo lies down by the edge, a few centimeters away from tumbling into the pond below. The water reflects the sky overhead, the blue, cloudless sky, and captures the image of the occasional flock of birds that pass by. He’s too on edge to fall asleep.

Dongho joins him, keeping his distance but close enough to provide some shielding from the sunlight, and seats himself. “You’ve been lead through twice, traveled through dreams four times, if it’s anyone it’s you that can fetch the chrysanthemums with morning dew.”

Seongwoo tilts his head backwards to catch a glimpse of the expression on Dongho’s face. Dongho looks forward. His expression doesn’t betray him.

“You think so?” Seongwoo voices, tentative.

Dongho nods once before turning to look at Seongwoo. “They speak of your improvement. I would like to see it for myself.”

Seongwoo closes his eyes and drifts into the world of the inbetween, chasing the scent of petrichor.

 

 

☾

 

 

Sungwoon appears behind him the moment Seongwoo drifts off into sleep.

“Is this you approving of him?” he asks, tone teasing.

“It doesn’t matter if I approve of him or not,” Dongho says, giving Seongwoo a glance before meeting Sungwoon’s eyes, “what matters is if Minhyun is happy with him around or not.”

Sungwoon’s hides his snicker behind a hand. It doesn’t go unnoticed.

 

 

☾

 

 

Traveling is still something Seongwoo needs to get used to. One moment he’s lying on the ledge and the next second he’s on grass. Scent familiar despite the lack of daffodils around.

A figure he’s well acquainted with stands over him, lips pursed, hands on her hips.

“I was wondering how long you were going to make me wait,” the rain sprite says. In her arms are beautiful yellow blossoms with drops of water still clinging onto the long, thin petals.

“I didn’t think he’d send an errand boy,” she comments and Seongwoo sits up.

He pats his pockets, wondering if Dongho had given him anything in exchange for the chrysanthemums. She shakes her head, lips curling, and explains: “It’s in exchange for a favor.”

“You seem to like having people owe you,” Seongwoo remarks, mirroring her expression as he accepts the flowers into his arms.

“Easier than the other way around,” she answers and Seongwoo chuckles.

“Remind me to never do business with you, Jieqiong,” Seongwoo says before closing his eyes.

“Don’t jinx yourself.” Is the last thing Seongwoo hears before he fades away.

 

 

☾

 

 

“This is unexpected,” Jisung greets as he opens the door, “what brings you here?”

“It's the ninth day of the ninth month,” Minhyun begins, cryptic, “the most dangerous day of the year.” He provides Jisung a sheepish smile. “I just—”

“Didn't want a repeat of last time?” Jisung suggests with a smile of his own. Then shrugs when he catches the expression on Minhyun’s face. “Seongwoo was acting weird. It's not hard to piece things together.”

Then he adds: “It’s probably pertains to things that can’t be explained by science. Things more akin to those depicted in my grandfather’s books.”

Minhyun nods, pleased. “They are at their strongest today,” he says, placing a talisman into Jisung’s hands, “it would give me some peace of mind if you would accept this.”

“A protection charm?” Jisung asks studying the piece of paper with unintelligible ink patterns.

Minhyun provides another smile. “Something along those lines.”

“Thank you,” Jisung says, sincerely. “But next time I hope you wouldn’t have to conjure up an excuse to visit me.”

“Duly noted,” Minhyun replies, laughing. Jisung grins.

 

 

☾

 

 

Seongwoo falls against someone sturdy; a hand grips his arm firmly to steady him.

“Do you often sleep while standing up or were you trying to look cool?” Dongho asks before releasing his grip on Seongwoo.

“I—” Seongwoo starts but then realizes he has nothing to say for himself so closes his mouth again. He looks around his surroundings. He’s back at Jonghyun’s place but instead of the courtyard with the beautiful garden, it’s almost as if the pond had overflowed and flooded the entire place.

“We have to hurry,” Dongho says and nods at the flowers in Seongwoo’s arms before squinting at the sun above.

“Indeed,” Jonghyun remarks, appearing behind them, “noon is almost here.” And upon the utter confusion on Seongwoo’s face Jonhyun just kindly explains: “the flowers Jieqiong has gathered for us are the freshest, but in order for the wine to be strong in deterring evil we need to make it at noon.”

Seongwoo points at himself. “Me?”

Jonghyun nods. “Just step out to the center and wait.”

Seongwoo does as he’s told, amazed when his feet touch the surface of the water, leaving ripples behind. He doesn’t sink, doesn’t fall, his shoes don’t get wet. He takes a glance at the two standing on the ledge. Expression neutral as if they weren’t exerting anything but Seongwoo knows better. There’s almost a skip in his step as he makes his way towards the center, the water reflecting his image and the sky above.

He stands still. Waits. One blossom seems to droop a little lower than the rest. The heat of the sun induces beads of sweat on Seongwoo’s forehead. The drops of dew still hang heavily. He waits, not sure when the process would be completed.

The water beneath his feet seems to resonate, gathering slowly to form a single drop.

The drop shoots upwards and into the center of the drooping chrysanthemum.

“Hurry,” someone yells from across the body of water, waving a hand.

“Sungwoon,” another commands, voice stern.

“Way ahead of you,” is the answer as Sungwoon lugs a large glass jug to the ledge.

Seongwoo runs towards them, keeping an eye on the chrysanthemums in his arms.

“Put them in,” Dongho says when Seongwoo approaches and Seongwoo dumps them into the jar. Dongho and Jonghyun quickly fasten the lid to the jar and seal it. Bubbles erupt from within, dissolving the chrysanthemum flowers within seconds.

“I hired alcohol spirits,” Dongho explains as he pats the jar fondly, “to get the job done quicker.”

Seongwoo stares at the jar in wonder.

“It’ll be perfect by tonight,” Jonghyun adds with a chuckle.

 

 

☾

 

 

Jonghyun is never wrong. The scent of meat being grilled fills the air. The water that had flooded the gardens a few hours ago has disappeared like how it appeared in the first place. All five keepers of the shop are here and their attendants, spare for the twins. The pipe fox happily curls itself around Seongwoo’s neck, giving him an enthusiastic hug.

Minhyun sits by his side. Seonho is trying to goad Dongho into giving him a piggy back ride. Aron is tending to the meat with Minki at his elbow — less helping and more eating in the guise of taste-testing for the rest of them. Jonghyun’s engaged in a conversation with Sungwoon. Minhyun takes a sip of the chrysanthemum wine.

Seongwoo rests his cheek against his hand, openly staring at Minhyun. “I thought you didn’t drink,” he remarks, trying to dig for answers.

“I don’t,” Minhyun replies before setting the cup down. “Only on occasion.”

“And this?” Seongwoo asks, gesturing at the cup.

“Today is the ninth day of the ninth month,” Minhyun explains, reading Seongwoo’s face before frowning. “Did no one explain that to you before you assisted them in the wine making?”

Seongwoo shakes his head.

“It’s the ninth day of the ninth month. They used to say it was the day when the sun was the strongest, making it the most poisonous day of the year,” Minhyun says before waving at the slowly emptying jar of chrysanthemum wine. “It’s said that chrysanthemums have a cleansing quality and for our line of business, something we need.” He gestures for Seongwoo to take a sip. Seongwoo does. The fragrance of chrysanthemums burst forth on his tongue and burn on the way down as liquor usually does.

Minhyun smiles, fond.

 

 

 

Everyone seems to be accustomed to this scene, aware of Minhyun’s low alcohol tolerance, because no one seems to make a note of how flushed he is. The tips of his ears are bright red and so is the rest of his face.

No one seems to notice how he leans a bit more into Seongwoo, allowing Seongwoo to shoulder his weight, fingers digging into Seongwoo’s arms for support. Seongwoo blames it on the alcohol, blames it on the way Minhyun’s robe starts to slide off a single shoulder, blames it on the heat that comes from Minhyun’s skin in droves inducing a similar effect in his own. The moon is reflected in Minhyun’s eyes and Seongwoo can’t look away. Feels more and more like an insect stuck in a web as Minhyun’s tongue darts out unintentionally, licking at dry lips, leaning in to speak into Seongwoo’s ear as if worried he wouldn’t be heard over the noise. “I’m tired,” Minhyun whispers and the ghost of his lips against the shell of Seongwoo’s ear nearly sends a shiver down his spine. He swallows, thickly, biting the insides of his cheeks. Minhyun’s head falls against Seongwoo’s shoulder and Seongwoo clenches his fist in response before he clears his throat.

“Let’s get you to a room,” he says, helping Minhyun stand up.

Jonghyun looks in their direction then. “Second door on the left,” is all he says and Seongwoo nods his head in gratitude.

Jonghyun rejoins the rest in the chatter and the attempt to fill their stomachs past the limit as Seongwoo steers Minhyun towards the house.

 

 

 

The room is simple: furnished enough for a comfortable stay, but under decorated as if it was waiting for someone to claim it. Seongwoo doesn’t have much time to inspect as he gently guides Minhyun to the bed, where he sinks down, dragging Seongwoo with him.

Seongwoo steadies himself with his hands, to avoid crushing Minhyun with his weight. He looks down, suddenly sober and self-conscious because Minhyun’s looking up at him as if he’s something interesting.

He scrambles to his feet.

Minhyun’s hands catch his wrist. “Stay,” he says.

Seongwoo screws his eyes shut, praying it’s not the alcohol speaking. And in the darkness of the room, with only the faint glow of the moon to provide any light, Seongwoo can almost believe it.

“Okay,” he says after a moment, taking a deep breath, returning to Minhyun’s side and allowing himself to sit. “Okay,” he echoes.

Minhyun scoots over on the twin bed to give Seongwoo more space. Seongwoo lies down. Minhyun’s fingers slide down, intertwining with Seongwoo’s. He turns a little, making himself comfortable, lips brushing against Seongwoo’s cheek when he says: “thank you.”

Seongwoo has to cover his face with his free hand, knowing it does nothing to cover the smile on his face.

 

 

☾

 

 

“Can’t sleep?” Minhyun asks as Seongwoo freezes in mid motion, caught red handed trying to rummage through the fridge.

“Me neither,” Minhyun adds as he closes the distance, peering into the contents of the fridge. He frowns. “I think Aron has some ramen stashed in the cupboards. Let’s hope it’s still there,” nonchalant as he navigates through the kitchen. His master’s memorial has always fell close to the ninth day of the ninth month of the lunar calendar and collectively they all decided to stay a few extra days.

Minhyun grins, pleased, when he manages to find two bowls, untouched. “I was worried that we had depleted all the food these past few days.” He tilts his head. “Would you care to join me?”

Seongwoo takes it as a cue to seat himself and reply with a cheeky: “It’s like you read my mind.”

 

 

 

They sit in silence, waiting for the 3 minutes to elapse.

“Troubling thoughts?” Minhyun asks at 126 seconds in a way that sounds more like a remark than a question.

“Something like that,” Seongwoo replies and begins slurping at his noodles, ignoring the burn of his tongue in an attempt to change the topic.

It works until Minhyun finishes his ramen and politely places the disposable chopsticks across the rim and waits for Seongwoo to finish.

Seongwoo has half a bowl left and takes a few extra seconds to fish for the next bunch, unable to meet Minhyun’s eyes.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Minhyun says, careful.

“No. I just—” Seongwoo starts, lost, shaking his head. He takes a deep breath, swallows, and puts down his chopsticks. “The other day, my professor said that if I wanted to apply for a PhD program in folklore studies, he would be more than happy to write me a recommendation letter.”

Minhyun remains silent and attentive. Patient as he waits for Seongwoo to continue.

“I don’t know if that’s what I want. Never planned this far,” Seongwoo confesses, sinking towards the table, and laughs mirthlessly.

But that really isn’t the case is it? Especially if Seongwoo has mulled over it for so long. So Minhyun asks: “What’s worrying you the most?”

Seongwoo’s expression grows fond, melts into relief, before he struggles once more. He stares into the half empty bowl of ramen, still housing left over soup base with flakes of dried vegetables still floating at the top. “I can’t help out as much if I’m going to apply. My professor even offered to let me assist his research, make me more of a competitive applicant.”

“If that’s what you are worried about, Seonho and I can handle ourselves,” Minhyun says, gently before adding: “We’ll miss you though.”

“But—” Seongwoo starts but then stops when he feels Minhyun’s hand covering his own.

“The gates will always be open for you. So do what you want to do, Seongwoo.”

Seongwoo decides to pick up his chopsticks again and ducks his head. When he takes a bite, the noodles are soggier and saltier than before but he can’t seem to mind. Seongwoo gives Minhyun’s hand a squeeze.

 

 

☾

 

 

Seongwoo makes his presence known with a loud and cheerful “I’m back! Miss me?”

“In your dreams,” Seonho retorts without missing a beat as he pulls Seongwoo into his embrace and nearly crushes him. Seongwoo laughs, ruffling Seonho’s hair.

Minhyun appears, walking from the direction of the kitchen, apron still tied to his frame. “You should have told me you were coming. I would have told Seonho to prepare a better dinner.”

“Lies, you would have kept me out of the kitchen,” Seonho exposes.

The tips of Minhyun’s grow red. “Either way it would be better than fried rice,” Minhyun says quickly before retreating back into the kitchen.

 

 

 

“He’s working me to the bone,” Seongwoo complains dramatically after swallowing a spoonful of rice. “See this?” Seongwoo gestures at the shadows beneath his eyes, “I haven’t slept in days.”

“It’s what you get for being a traitor,” Seonho says flippantly while digging a spoonful of rice from Seongwoo’s bowl despite the protests and the attempts to thwart him. But Seonho’s not so easily defeated.

“I had blessings from your master!” Seongwoo argues.

Minhyun sets his bowl down. It’s spotless. “I don't recall any of that,” he says but his lips betray him.

Seongwoo gapes openly at him. “It’s been weeks since I’ve been here and this is how I am treated?” he whines. “I should have paid Aron hyung or Jonghyun a visit instead.” And proceeds to sprawl across the outdoor bench, toes pressing against Seonho’s calves and fingers brushing against Minhyun’s ankles.

They laugh in unison over Seongwoo’s misery.

 

 

 

They had cleaned up after themselves. Seonho had retired to his room two hours ago. Seongwoo crosses his legs as he starts teasing out details of the cases he has missed since his last visit after he’s filled Minhyun in on all the random tidbits and artifacts he’s come across under his professor’s tutelage.

“It’s confidential,” Minhyun had claimed before relenting to Seongwoo’s incessant questions.

 

 

☾

 

 

In a blink of an eye, the night has slipped into the hours of next morning. Seongwoo’s unwilling to part ( hopes its mutual ) as he walks Minhyun back to Minhyun's room. He takes a long glance at the half moon hanging in the sky and the wisps of clouds that try to dim its light, blurring the focus.

He’s reminded of months ago when he remarks: “the night is still young.”

For a moment Seongwoo thinks he sees the ghost of Minhyun’s smirk, almost believes Minhyun has dredged up the memories from that night before he turns around, heading into his quarters.

Minhyun’s fingers still grip the frame of his door, still has yet to enter. He turns around, cocking his head to one side as if testing Seongwoo when he says: “If the nights aren’t meant for sleeping, then what are they for?”

Seongwoo’s not one to back away from challenges. He cups Minhyun’s cheeks as an answer, leans into him, and kisses him.

Minhyun takes a step back, leading both of them into the room.

The moon sheds light through the cracked window, outlining the parts of the room, like the cabinet against the wall or the table next to him but Seongwoo barely notices any of it. Minhyun’s foot catches against the edge of his futon and he breaks away, laughing — breathless. The sight of it — of Minhyun laughing, eyes becoming crescents — steals all of Seongwoo’s breath away ( as if he had any left to begin with ).

Minhyun chooses to sink down then and drags Seongwoo with him. They collide, foreheads bumping into each other and laughing in tandem at the awkwardness, the mess this has devolved into.

The nerves fade moments later and Minhyun looks at him intently before reaching out, fingers pliant against Seongwoo’s cheek as his thumb traces the triangulation of moles. Seongwoo can feel how his skin flushes under Minhyun’s ministrations, how Minhyun’s fingers leave a blazing trail in its wake as Minhyun drags his thumb to the one behind his ear. He lingers for a moment there, eyes curious yet searing into Seongwoo. Minhyun follows the trail to the one barely obscured by the shirt Seongwoo is wearing today. Keeps it there, the warmth of his palm radiating against Seongwoo’s chest ; against his heart.

It’s too hot in here, Seongwoo reasons, tugging off his shirt, abandoning it to the side. Minhyun continues to chase a cold lead. Or perhaps not. He moves with purpose, fingers sliding down the length to his navel, circling the expanse skin above the line of his underwear. Seongwoo frees his legs and Minhyun continues mapping studiously as a cartographer would, sending a shiver down Seongwoo’s spine. It's really unfair how he's coming undone by a few touches.

“Please—” Seongwoo says, not certain what he wants.

Minhyun seems to understand him despite everything and shrugs out of his robes, hand reaching for Seongwoo’s and draws it towards him. He lays it over his own heart and keeps it there. Minhyun’s heart beats rapidly and Seongwoo can’t tell if the heat is from his own palm or from Minhyun’s skin. It doesn't matter. When Minhyun frees Seongwoo’s hand and gives him a nod, Seongwoo can’t think of anything else.

He tries to memorize the details, the dips and the curves, as if it’s the only chance he’ll ever get. He doesn’t think he'll ever get tired of this — like a saint who pores over tomes of religious texts and never gets bored, always finding something new to gleam from it.

And the layers of clothing slowly get peeled off piece by piece, strewn across the room.

“Wait,” Minhyun says, breathless. Nervousness heard in his voice as he reaches over. His legs are swung over Seongwoo’s, straddling him, a hand on Seongwoo’s chest to steady himself as he reaches behind Seongwoo rummaging for something in a drawer. “Don’t ask,” Minhyun commands Seongwoo feels something cold being poured generously into his hand, coating his fingers.

“Can I? Really?” Seongwoo asks, eyes widening, incredulous as Minhyun flushes a deeper shade of red, and nods in return. It’s Minhyun’s hand that guides Seongwoo’s. Seongwoo works one finger into Minhyun, slow and careful and _slow_ —

Minhyun gasps and Seongwoo thinks it’s the most beautiful sound in the world.

He adds another and the sounds that spill from Minhyun’s lips fills Seongwoo’s chest to the point where it feels like it has capsized and he can no longer tell the difference. Minhyun’s head falls against Seongwoo’s shoulder and the brush of his bangs against Seongwoo’s skin nearly reduces him to tears.

And another. Drags out a moan from Minhyun lips. It ricochets. Reverberates through every bone in Seongwoo’s body.

Minhyun’s breath is heavy against his shoulder but still manages to gather himself, forcing Seongwoo to pull out as he tears open a gold package, tests the reservoir of the condom, rolls it down the length of Seongwoo’s cock.

“Don’t—” Minhyun warns, growling into Seongwoo’s ear, “touch yourself or me until I give you permission.”

Minhyun takes him — inch by inch — and it’s like having all his breath extracted from him. And then he starts to move.

Seongwoo thinks he’s going to combust right then and there, fighting his entire being to keep his hands away from Minhyun’s hips, keep himself from pulling Minhyun closer. So he digs his fingers into Minhyun’s sheets, while the most embarrassing sounds are being drawn out of him like a spell. Like everything else.

He thinks about how, initially, he came here in the search for something — purpose and meaning perhaps — and now he has found everything he wanted and more.

When he comes, it’s with Minhyun's name on his tongue like it was always meant to be there.

 

 

 

When the haze has subsided a little bit, Seongwoo realizes that Minhyun is still hard, still trying to make sure Seongwoo is the one pleasured, still putting Seongwoo over himself. Seongwoo points it out but Minhyun brushes him off as always with a small shake of his head and a quiet “don’t worry about it.” But this isn’t how he imagined it to be ( better than what he had allowed himself imagine in some ways ) and not fair to Minhyun.

“You promised,” Seongwoo reminds, “to let me shoulder your burdens.” Seongwoo drags his fingernails against the length of Minhyun’s cock, keeping a steady gaze on Minhyun’s face. “It means in joy and in sorrow,” Seongwoo continues, steadying the base, “and in this as well.”

“Tell me to stop,” Seongwoo says, gaze unwavering, when he takes matters into his own hands and down his throat.

Minhyun’s hands are light at first, pliant, against his cheek and petting his hair in a way that makes Seongwoo almost jealous of Seonho. It’s gentle, comforting. No wonder Seonho beams up at Minhyun in a way that exudes affection. He forgets about it a second later when Minhyun’s fingers dig a little deeper, still a little too careful. Seongwoo counts it as a victory when Minhyun’s forced to grip a little tighter, tug at Seongwoo’s hair. And _god_ — the sounds that spill from Minhyun’s lips, almost tempts Seongwoo to steal them for himself. But he doesn’t. He keeps drawing out the noises along with half formed compliments, watches as Minhyun arches his back and under the light of the moon, it makes Minhyun’s skin seem paler than what Seongwoo’s used to, like a canvas for marks to blossom upon ( for another day ). It’s alluring: this scene where Minhyun unravels, where he’s brought over the edge with Seongwoo’s name on his lips.

Seongwoo sits up again, wiping the dribbles with the back of his hand. Minhyun smiles, apologetic, and reaches for him to clean off his mess with tissues and the gentle swipe of his thumb. Seongwoo returns the smile, body lethargic, tempted to collapse into Minhyun’s futon. But everything will be worse to deal with in the morning so he gets up and heads towards the bathroom. He rinses what he can. In the same trance like state he runs a towel under hot water and brings it out to Minhyun.

It’s cooled to a point of comfort and Seongwoo wipes Minhyun off.

They collapse — towel abandoned, forgotten, as they share the futon and huddle closer. Limbs entangled to the point it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins.

Minhyun’s eyes don’t leave his. A lazy curl of lips prompts Seongwoo to ask: “What are you thinking about?” Croaking it out, really.

“You,” Minhyun says unblinkingly.  His bangs have started to grow to the length where they threaten to cover his eyes but still too short for a proper trim. Seongwoo reaches out to brush them out of the way, his heart still stutters in his chest when his fingertip accidentally skims against Minhyun’s forehead. “How I thought you were handsome the moment you stepped through those gates.” Seongwoo forgets how to breathe for a moment. Minhyun chuckles as he leans in closer, lips grazing against Seongwoo’s shoulder. “I had no idea,” Minhyun breathes out and Seongwoo’s breath hitches. Another chuckle, infused with drowsiness.

Seongwoo knows he’s grinning like a fool but he doesn’t care and falls asleep with the warmth lingering in his chest, making him feel like his heart is twice its normal size.

 

 

 

Sunlight spills in through the cracked window, rousing Seongwoo from last vestiges of sleep. He finds himself staring at Minhyun's slumbering figure — so, _so_ beautiful with his short lashes fluttering against his skin, the sharp line of his nose, and the small puffs of air released in deep sleep. And how this scene makes him far more handsome than the mysterious individual who emerged from inside the hanok. Seongwoo reaches over, again, to sweep Minhyun’s bangs to the side and ends up drawing circles into Minhyun’s cheeks with a thumb, lost in reminiscence.

Minhyun groans low, deep, gravelly. "Five more minutes," he pleads, half asleep.

Seongwoo’s smile grows fond because he could get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
>   * Title taken from my second favorite poet. It comes from the last part of poem _You are Jeff_. Personally, I believe that everyone should buy a copy of _Crush_ and _War of the Foxes_ , but if you can't and wish to read & appreciate poetry, click [here](http://youngerpoets.yupnet.org/2008/04/17/you-are-jeff-crush-by-richard-siken/) to read.
>   * The festival they are celebrating is [this one](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Double_Ninth_Festival). Originally meant to cleanse evil, it has a double meaning to revisit and reunite with loved ones. Although, from my memories it doesn't hold as much importance as [Qingming Festival](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Qingming_Festival).
>   * Minki visited sometime inbetween and supplied Minhyun all he needed like the great friend he'll always be.
> 

> 
> Sorry for the huge delay. Life happened, insecurities are old friends, and this chapter wouldn't write itself.
> 
> If you are screaming like I am, please don't look for me because I'm currently a tomato. If anything, please blame the radio for putting [Dusk to Dawn](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tt2k8PGm-TI) on repeat for two weeks and my kouhai ( or my eagerness to end my kouhai ).
> 
> This fic is a lot of firsts.


	18. Still, I Will Love You Softly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Margaret Atwood once wrote:
>
>> So much for endings. Beginnings are always more fun. True connoisseurs,  
> however, are known to favor the stretch in between, since it's the hardest to do anything with.
>> 
>> That's about all that can be said for plots, which anyway are just one thing after another, a what and a what and a what.

Seongwoo draws his arrow back, embodying serenity as he releases it. The head embeds itself near the center of the target seventy meters away. Another one follows, still within the innermost circle.

A familiar figure catches his eye. The arrow lodges itself in the center.

The image shatters a moment later when a grin breaks out on his face; an excited  _yes_  is uttered, doing a small fist pump by his hip. The coach shakes his head.

“It would have been perfect if not for that unseemly outburst at the end,” the coach remarks before telling the next round of club members to line up.

Seongwoo laughs, unabashed.

 

 

 

Seongwoo’s fingers grip the chain linked fence, face looming too close, eyes nearly sparkling as the looks between the two individuals on the other side.

“Did you fall for me?” he asks, excitement laced in his tone, lips curling into the semblance of a smirk.

There is a small chorus of screams behind them, Minhyun pays them no heed as he smiles.

“It is practically a scam,” Seonho sniffs, “if only they knew what you were truly like.” The boy gestures at the fans and Seongwoo ignores it all.

“I didn’t think you would come,” Seongwoo says.

Minhyun’s gaze is unwavering, never once leaving Seongwoo’s face when he replies with a simple: “you invited me.”

Despite the fingers curled around the metal coils of the fence, it’s still too far. So Seongwoo says a quick "wait for me" before hurrying inside to change.

 

 

 

“Isn’t late to be starting an athletic career, towards the end of your third year in college?” Seonho asks as Seongwoo slings his bag over a shoulder.

Seongwoo shrugs. “They all seemed to be asking the same thing when I first joined but it’s easy to fall back into it. Did it all through high school because a friend dragged me into it.” He chuckles, fond as he reminisces the past. “Clearly, I’m a natural.” Which elicits a groan from Seonho.

“Archery is the reflection of the heart,” Minhyun quotes, under his breath. Seongwoo turns to face him.

“Indeed,” he remarks. “I don’t have to think of anything when it is just me, the target, and the bow.”

“Besides,” Seongwoo adds a second later, “it helps me practice. Helps my reflexes.” He runs his thumb across the wooden band worn on his index finger. 

Minhyun’s eyes flits to the thimble for a short second. Seongwoo’s ability has improved in leaps and bounds, able to keep that trinket in its storage form even while wearing it until a threat is at hand. Unlike before, where the bow would form whenever he slipped it on. Minhyun doubts he'll be able to obscure Seongwoo’s gaze again, keep him from seeing. Not that he needs to. Not anymore.

 

 

 

The sky overhead dips into the golden hours. Violet creeps in from the peripheries. The leaves of the trees embedded into squares in the sidewalk bask in the orange glow of the setting sun. Seongwoo’s hair seems to have brown highlights in this lighting. Seonho can almost pass as a regular high school kid if he was wearing a uniform. When Seongwoo throws his head back and laughs at something Seonho must have said, his Adam's apple is apparent with the way the shadows play with the slowly dissipating light. Seongwoo wrestles Seonho in order to rub his knuckles into the crown of Seonho's head. Eyes curving when he lets go and Seonho protests. His laugh is loud enough to drown out Seonho’s complaints.

The way Seongwoo had drawn his bow, feet parted and firmly planted against the ground, entire body focused like the arrow held between his fingers, face serene — had been beautiful. Ethereal almost. But Minhyun prefers this more. This Seongwoo who is honest, earnest, and open. Who laughs the loudest at his own lame jokes, who scratches the back of his head when he’s embarrassed, who looks at Minhyun with eyes crinkling as if Minhyun is the answer to the question Seongwoo doesn’t know how to solve.

 _His_  Seongwoo.

It isn’t until both Seongwoo and Seonho turn around that Minhyun realizes he hasn’t taken a single step.

He laughs, mostly at himself, before joining them. Elbows bumping lightly against Seongwoo’s when he catches up.

Seongwoo fits Minhyun’s hand in his own, intertwining them. And if Minhyun wasn’t looking closely, he may have missed the dust of pink across cheeks.

( If Seonho witnessed any of this, he remains silent on all matters including this. )

 

 

 

Seongwoo leans against the handle of the cart with his elbows, watching as Minhyun and Seonho debate over which meat to grill for tonight. They are both absorbed, pointing at the various slabs of meat behind the glass, a few feet in front of Seongwoo.

Minhyun turns around. “What do you want for dinner tonight?” he asks Seongwoo.

“Whatever you want,” Seongwoo answers.

“See, I told you he was useless,” Seonho interjects.

Minhyun shakes his head, smile turning mischievous when he says: “he said whatever  _I_  want. Pork belly it is.” And gleefully asks the butcher to slice some for him as Seonho turns around to shoot Seongwoo a withering glare.

Seongwo just grins and nearly cackles at the expression on Seonho’s face.

 

 

 

Seongwoo parts his lips in anticipation as Minhyun gently blows the dumpling hanging precariously on the plastic fork. When Minhyun has determined that it is cool enough, he brings it close enough to Seongwoo for him to eat it in a bite.

Seongwoo opens his mouth to release some of the heat that scalds at his tongue. Minhyun chuckles at the sight.

Thankfully, the lady is too absorbed in trying to sell the product to customers who are taste testing and everyone else only cares about the food in front of them oblivious to anything happening around them. Seonho had split up with them in order get through the list of groceries faster.

And yet here they are, taking a short break after fetching the bean sprouts and lettuce.

This time, Seongwoo saunters up to grab a serving and returns the gesture.

 

 

 

Seongwoo helps rinse the lettuce, runs them under cold water, and shakes them dry before he piles them on a plate. Seonho is ladles side dishes into small bowls and tasks Seongwoo to carry them out to the courtyard. Minhyun’s tending to the meat.

Seongwoo starts setting the table and Seonho joins him moments later, paying extra attention to the arrangement of the utensils and platters of side dishes, trying to leave a space in the center to showcase the star of the night: meat.

Minhyun’s dealing with the last of the meat when Seonho speaks up. “Hyung,” he starts, addressing Seongwoo, “what do you usually have for dinner?”

Seongwoo shrugs. “Anything I can find? Ramen or something from the school cafeteria. Some times I fall asleep and don’t wake up till morning so it saves me a meal.”

Seonho frowns. “That sounds unhealthy.”

“Why else do you think I stop by when I can?” Seongwoo replies cheekily but Seonho doesn’t join him in laughter like he had expected.

“How much is rent per month for your apartment?” Seonho questions instead.

“Why do you ask?”

This time it is Seonho who shrugs. “You could frequent here like you used to if you decided to stay.”

Seongwoo almost gapes at him. Almost.

“You are more than welcome to,” Minhyun says when he joins them, placing the plate of meat in the center of the table, “if you wanted.”

Seongwoo swallows. “Are you sure?”

Minhyun nods.

“I would love to.”

Minhyun smiles as he holds a lettuce wrap in front of Seongwoo’s lips like an offering. The meat is still warm through the lettuce, against his tongue. Seongwoo allows his lips to catch on Minhyun’s finger, sealing the deal.

He grins at the reddened tips of ears, makes a wrap of his own to feed Minhyun. It gets stolen by Seonho, preening from his victory.

Minhyun chuckles as he allows Seonho to feed him.

 

 

 

Their stomachs are filled, plates empty, and the coals lie cold in the grill.

Seongwoo leans back, elbows shouldering his weight. From where he’s seated, the front gates are behind him, the house in front. The rooms are lit. The cicadas chirp. He never got the chance to take his time and appreciate on the first day, too busy trying to chase down a girl who's name he still doesn't know, too busy trying to make sense of this absurdity.

Now, it feels like home.

“You never,” Seongwoo begins, lips curling in amusement as he looks straight at Minhyun, “asked me what my desire was.”

“You made your wish,” Seonho interjects.

Minhyun’s gaze is heavy, when he inquires: “what, pray tell, is your desire?”

“You,” Seongwoo states simply. “It has always and will always be you.”

Seonho makes a gagging sound before busying himself with clearing the plates.

And when Minhyun throws his head back and laughs, it sounds a lot like love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * Chapter title comes from one of my favorite BL mangakas [Yoneda Kou](https://www.mangaupdates.com/authors.html?id=6374). She's most famous for [Saezuru Tori wa Habatakanai](http://www.mangago.me/read-manga/saezuru_tori_wa_habatakanai/). Personally, I prefer any of her 8018 khr doujins or [Rainy Days, Yesterday](http://www.mangago.me/read-manga/rainy_days_yesterday/). [Soredemo, Yasashii Koi o Suru](http://www.mangago.me/read-manga/soredemo_yasashii_koi_o_suru/) is a spin off of another story. I prefer the spin off more than the original.
>   * The excerpt in the notes at the beginning of this chapter comes from Margaret Atwood's short story "[Happy Endings](http://www.napavalley.edu/people/LYanover/Documents/English%20123/English%20123%20Margaret%20Atwood's%20HappyEndings.pdf)". I recommend a read.
> 

> 
> My dear readers, thank you for all the love and support you've left me in the past month and a half (really, has it only been that much time?). Without it, I probably wouldn't have been motivated enough to finish. I'm terrible at receiving compliments or replying to comments but I treasure each and every one of them. So thank you, again, for getting to this chapter.
> 
> Hit me up on [twitter](https://twitter.com/dulcetfairytale) or [cc](https://curiouscat.me/lucitae).


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